Wayne's Boys: Family Ties
by KatHarkness-Katara
Summary: No-one would have thought of Batman as a family man- or Bruce Wayne, actually. But now he's got all four of his boys back under the manor's roof, can he keep them there? Or will Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian cause too much chaos? At least the girls are around to keep them in line… No slash, some romantic pairings. Rated T for Jason & Damian's language, and violent themes
1. Chapter 1: School Days

**Wayne's Boys Chapter 1 School Days**

The phone rang in Bruce's study. He snatched it up on the second ring. "Wayne Manor…Yes, Bruce Wayne speaking…Ah, Principal, how may I help?...Jason and Tim? What have they?...Yes, I see, I'll be right over." He slammed the phone down. Almost as an afterthought, he threw it across the room.

As he stormed down to the garage, he ran into Dick. "I know that look," he said. "What happened?"

"Tim and Jason got into a fight."

"Who with?"

"Each other."

"Ah. I assume they both…?"

"Nothing serious. Yet."

"Want me to come with you?"

"That would be wise. Thank you."

They got into one of the less flashy cars and drove off.

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When they reached the school and were shown into the principal's office, Tim and Jason were glaring at each other over folded arms. "Alright then, what was it about this time?" Bruce sighed.

"He showed me up in class," Jason muttered.

"You're in the same class?" Dick asked.

"Jason had to go back a few years, and it clashed with Tim's advanced placement classes," Bruce explained. "What do you mean, 'showed you up'?"

"He needs to work on his chemistry, that's all," Tim said.

"Just 'cause I can't recite the Periodic Table-!"

"Enough!" Bruce exclaimed. "Would you stop being so petty?"

"Sorry," they both muttered, looking at the floor.

"Now grow up!" he growled, looking so furious even Dick had to take a step back.

"Ah, Mr Wayne?" the principal interdicted. "We have a policy that any student fighting gets sent home for the rest of the day. Do you mind…?"

"Not at all," Bruce smiled tightly. "I'm sorry my boys have made such a bad impression on you."

"At least Damian isn't here," Dick added under his breath.

At that moment, as if on cue, Damian barged through the door. "Miss Curtis says I'm to give you this," he said, presenting the principal with a handwritten note. Then he looked around. "Let me guess. Drake and Todd were fighting, so you had to come get them. What's Grayson doing?"

Behind them, the principal quietly read out the list of misdemeanours while Bruce and Dick glowered at Damian, and Tim and Jason stared daggers at each other. "Disrespect, threatening students, bad language, violent behaviour…Mr Wayne, could you take this one away as well?"

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Later, in the car home. "I can't believe this," Bruce exploded from the front passenger seat. "On your first day, all of you end up in the principal's office! Can't you behave yourselves for one day?!"

Squashed in the back, the three disgraced Wayne boys muttered apologies.

"Do you have any idea how hard it will be to get you educated if you insist on behaving like that?"

Bruce paused for breath, and Damian jumped in. "So why'd you bring Grayson?" he demanded.

"Because I'm not sure I could drive in a straight line right now," Bruce growled, nodding to Dick behind the wheel.

"The mind boggles as to how you got into trouble, Tim," Dick said. "What made you fight Jason? Besides the obvious."

"It wasn't the obvious. He was moaning about having to learn molecular structure, and I said it was important to know. He said he already knew all the chemistry he needed, and started listing explosive compounds. The teacher started looking nervous, and I told him to stop it. He said why, and I told him he had too limited a field of expertise, and he hit me."

"You sneered at me! In class! Not only am I studying pointless subjects with children years younger than me, the Replacement sneers at me!"

"Tim, don't sneer at Jason. Jason, don't hit Tim. And stop calling him 'Replacement'," Bruce said. "Damian? Care to account for your behaviour?"

"They're all stupid, worthless wimps and the teachers are pig-ignorant-"

"Damian!" Bruce counted to ten before continuing. "You can think whatever you like about them, as long as you behave as if you respect them."

"Why?"

"Because that's the right way to do things! Or are you not a good enough actor?"

"I'm a good actor."

"Well, prove it." He sighed wearily. "You three are grounded until further notice. You can use the time to catch up on what you should be studying right now."

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They managed fifteen minutes without fighting. Bruce knew, because he started a stop-clock after shutting himself in his study. Reluctantly, he tracked down the source of the disturbance. He soon found Tim and Damian rolling around on the floor, trying to tear chunks out of each other. Dick was trying desperately to separate them, to no avail. He gestured for a watching Jason to help him, and finally got them apart.

"I don't care what that was about, but I don't want to see it again," he said. "Go to your rooms."

As the boys slunk off, Bruce beckoned Dick. "What happened to Tim? He's such a good kid; what's his problem?"

Dick shrugged. "He's sharing a home with two guys who tried to kill him, What do you think's the problem?"


	2. Chapter 2: Trust

_Thanks to all those who read, reviewed and followed/favourited this. Also, thanks to my beta, Supernova95._

**Family Ties Chapter 2 Trust**

As night fell on Gotham, the Batmobile raced through the streets. Inside, Batman and Nightwing considered options. "They weren't happy about staying home," Nightwing said. "We might return to carnage or something."

"They have to learn to control themselves," Batman said.

"Please, Bruce. Damian has contempt for the human race in general, and Tim in particular, Jason has a lot of anger to work out, and Tim's under assault from all sides. They need to get out, use their aggression on the streets.

"Rather than each other?" Nightwing nodded, so he continued. "If we need them, we'll call them, okay?"

"And if we don't? I'd hate to think of the mess they might leave if they have to stay home all night."

"I'm sure Alfred can keep them under control."

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Back at the manor, Alfred finished emptying the fire extinguisher as the blaze petered out. "Master Jason, you are not to smoke inside, and especially not while manufacturing explosives. You are not even allowed explosives outside the cave."

"Yeah, whatever," he muttered. "I won't set the house on fire again."

Alfred glowered, snatching the still-lit cigarette from Jason's lips and stubbing it out, just as a loud crash echoed through the halls. Sprinting towards the source of the noise, they found Tim swinging from an antique chandelier over a bannister and onto the balcony as one of Damian's throwing knives whizzed past his head.

"Sweet," Jason said. "Can I join in?"

"Master Tim. Master Damian. Master Jason. I was going to bake cookies. If you continue to misbehave, you will get none, and Master Dick will have a very enjoyable evening. Is that understood?" The boys' nods said it all. "Well, then, I'm sure you can find something to do."

"Fine. I'm going to the cave to do some research," Tim said.

"Grounded, remember?" Jason grumbled.

"I'm not going out. Just using the computer."

"Is that allowed?" Damian demanded of Alfred.

"As far as I am aware, the Batcave is not off-limits, provided it is not used as an exit," Alfred ruled. "I believe you two have homework."

"And Drake doesn't?" Damian retorted.

"I did mine while you two were trying to sneak into Dick's candy stash," Tim said. "Not my fault you're not finished."

Tim strode off towards the cave while Alfred hurried the other two away.

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In Gotham, Batman and Nightwing watched a load of drugs coming off a ship. "Ready?" Batman asked.

"Three more over there," Nightwing said, nodding towards them. "Think I can take 'm, but then I can't back you up."

"I'll be fine. Only five. On three?" Batman held up his fist, raising one finger, then another. Before he could raise a third, one of the men fell with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder. Another followed suit, and a figure in a dark cape descended. As she landed, Batman identified the woman's navy and purple livery- Huntress. Nightwing watched as the three men he'd spotted rounded the corner and raised shotguns. Cursing under his breath, he flipped off the roof and pulled out his escrima sticks. Landing silently behind them, he knocked out two with the sticks and kicked the third between the legs. As they fell, he scooped up the guns, and looked round at a gunshot. Huntress had twisted back, and her battle-staff disarmed the last man. Batman swept down to the dock covered in unconscious men and glared at Huntress.

"Risky," he said. "You could have been shot, and your crossbow could have killed them."

"I know what I'm doing," she replied, irritated.

"Oh yeah?" Nightwing said, dragging three men by their cuffed wrists behind him, the shotguns under his arm. "What were you going to do about these three?"

Huntress stayed silent. "You didn't see them, did you?" Batman asked. "And you didn't see us. You rushed into action."

"And how would you have done it?" the now-irate Huntress asked.

"Smoke bomb and night vision lenses."

"Huh." She looked away, bending to cuff the men. "You always have an answer." When she looked back, Batman and Nightwing were gone.

From the rooftop, Batman watched Huntress' confusion. He tapped his commlink. "Red Robin. I need you to go to the cave- Get the CCTV footage at my location. I want to know everything about Huntress."

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In the Batcave, Tim pulled up the live footage. "Okay, I can see her. How much do you want to know?" On another screen, he rewound the footage, jumping from camera to camera to back-track her progress. "Name, address, date of birth, social security number, next of kin, what are we talking about?"

"_All of it,"_ replied Batman. _"I want to know how far we can trust her, and I need to know who she is for that."_

"Why not just knock her out and bring her here?" Tim asked. "Wouldn't be the first time, you did that with Batgirl." He noticed something on the first screen. "Lost her on camera. Still back-tracking."

"_Keep working on it,"_ Batman replied.

"I'll run an elimination program on the driver licence database. Give us some leads if nothing else."

As he said that, the back-track program froze, as Huntress climbed out of an apartment window.

"Gotcha," Tim murmered.


	3. Chapter 3: Damian's Dilemma

**Family Ties Chapter 3 Damian's Dilemma**

Damian shuddered out of sleep, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He shook his head to dispel the image of bodies piled high. He slipped out of bed and padded towards Grayson's room. He heard light footsteps, and ducked behind a sculpture. As he watched, Grayson padded past carrying a sleeping Drake in his arms. A pattern of red patches on Drake's face betrayed the fact he'd fallen asleep on the Batcomputer's keyboard. Stealthily Damian followed, watching as Grayson put Drake to bed and tucked him in, He turned. "Something the matter, Little D?" he asked quietly.

"Why was Drake up so late?" Damian asked, omitting mention of his nightmare.

Grayson shrugged. Damian noticed he was only wearing jeans and a shirt, his hair wet from the shower. "Bruce gave him some research. You know how he is." His eyes narrowed. "I didn't pass your room. Were you looking for me?"

"No!"

Grayson looked past the denial, seeing traces of fear still fading. "You had a bad dream, huh?" Damian didn't answer. "C'mon. Let's let Tim sleep, and you can tell me all about it."

Quickly, Grayson scooped Damian up and carried him to his own room. He set him on the bed, grabbed his pyjamas, and slipped into the bathroom. "One minute," he promised, leaving Damian to examine the room. Grayson's floor was covered in clothing and the occasional book. The desk was a cluttered mess of papers, stationary, batarangs and escrima sticks. Above it, a pin board held the front pages of a dozen _Daily Planet_s focusing on Superman. Damian knew that this was largely for the purposes of giving Father something to yell about. Several leather-bound albums on the bedside table contained newspaper clippings of the exploits of Batman, Robin, Nightwing, the Titans and Outsiders, and all the other groups and people he'd been involved with over the years. Damian picked up the top one, flicking through until he found an article on the Joker's defeat dating to when Grayson was Batman.

"We did good, didn't we?" Damian looked up, seeing Grayson standing in the doorway in his sky-blue pyjamas, same shade as his eyes.

"That is grammatically incorrect," he responded, shutting the album with a snap and replacing it.

Coming over, Grayson shook his head. "I don't mean we did well, I mean we did things that were good. Don't you agree?" He sat on the bed beside Damian and reached out to hug him, but he pulled away. "What's the matter, Dami?"

Damian stared at the floor. "What would happen if Mother tried to take me back?" he asked eventually.

"We'd do everything we could to keep you safe."

"And if I went with her willingly?"

"I don't know." Grayson looked at him. "Dami, do you know something? Suspect something? You know we just want you to be safe and happy…"

"I know that. You cannot resist saying so." He bit his lip. "I do not know anything. I suspect Mother will come at some point, but I have nothing other than knowledge of her and Grandfather to base that on." He closed his eyes. "I hope she doesn't…" he whispered, almost to himself.

"Is that what you were dreaming about?" Grayson asked. When Damian didn't reply, he pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, we won't let her hurt you…"

"And if you're dead?" Damian said, pulling away. "What if you all get killed, and no-one's left? Or if I have the choice of either going willingly or seeing you all dead?" Fighting back tears, Damian closed his eyes. "What do I do then?"

"You care that much, huh?" Grayson murmured. "I can't answer that. There just isn't an answer. If I ever ended up in that position, I'd go with it, fight it as much as possible, and hope to hell you get me out…But I'm not you, and I don't know what Talia might put you through, Just try to let us know what happens if you ever wind up there. We'll come for you."

Damian leaned against Grayson, finally letting his oldest brother hold him. "What if only you die?" What if I'm safe, but you pay for it?" At Grayson's startled look, he elaborated. "They'd hate me for it. Father loves you best…"

"Now you're sounding like Jason," Grayson quipped. "Sure, Bruce would be…upset…but he wouldn't blame you. You're still his son."

"I'm an assassin kid he happens to be related to. You're the one he chose as his son. I'm just the one he has to acknowledge."

"That really how you see yourself, Dami? Just because Bruce never shows it doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He loves all of us. And you're extra special because you're the only one of us who's his biologically."

"But I've disappointed him so much…"

"So has Jason."

"He feels responsible for Todd."

"Never heard the story of how he first met Jason?"

Damian paused. "Only that he was a street kid who ran away after his father left and his mother died."

"Yeah, but Bruce ran into him nicking the Batmobile's tyres."

"And he took him in?"

"He liked his style."

"Tt." Damian felt his eyelids drooping as sleep started to claim him again. "Grayson, if Father had another kid, biologically, would I be less special?"

As he faded out of consciousness, he heard Grayson chuckle. "Not a bit, Little D. Not a bit."


	4. Chap 4: Pooling Information and Porridge

**Family Ties Chapter 4 Pooling Information and Porridge**

When Dick awoke the next morning, he was alone, a heap of cooling bedclothes betraying Damian's presence during the night. Evidently, the talk last night was more than a weird dream, although Damian would deny it ever took place. Smiling slightly, he dressed and went down for breakfast.

The boys were already there. He slid into his seat next to Tim and reached for the toast rack. "Hey," he said. "I miss anything back here last night?"

"Uh, I got some good leads on one of those cold cases before Bruce called in that new research project," Tim answered, not looking up from his porridge.

Jason swallowed a mouthful of bacon. "Oh, and Alfred made cookies."

"Really?" Dick said, perking up.

"We ate most of them already," Jason replied, snickering.

"Thanks," Dick said, crestfallen. "What about you, Little D?"

Damian pushed aside his empty cereal bowl, also grabbing toast. "Todd made me watch a movie. He said it would be 'educational'." He made a vicious gesture with the butter knife. "It was ludicrous."

"Uh, okay," Dick said, keeping a wary eye on the knife. "What movie was it?"

"Kung Fu Panda."

"Right…"

"Boys." Bruce walked in and took a seat at the head of the table. "Tim, what did you get on Huntress?"

"Right," the fourteen-year-old said. "Okay, I back-tracked her to an apartment using security cameras. The apartment is leased to one Holly Walker. But I think that's a pseudonym."

"No Holly Walkers?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Five in Gotham. One is in her sixties, two in elementary and middle school, and one in and out of hospital with kidney problems."

"And the fifth?"

"Blonde." Dick snickered, and Tim shot him a look. "I checked the photo on her driving licence. Not her. Huntress pays the lease in cash weekly. I managed to get some footage of her without the mask. But she doesn't spend enough time there for it to be her primary residence; I think she just keeps her Huntress gear there." He tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl. "The apartment's right on the edge of Catwoman's territory. Might be a correlation…"

"I'll look into it. Anything else?" Bruce asked.

"I ran a picture of her through a comparison with the driving licence database. I…didn't see the results."

"You fell asleep," Dick said. "We've all done that. Go on."

"Probably going to be at least a dozen hits. There's a couple of other avenues I want to explore. I can check hospital records to see if anyone repeatedly comes in with multiple injuries."

"We don't."

"I know, Jason, doesn't mean she doesn't. It's something I can look at. Other thing I want to try is tracking down her equipment supplier."

"Good work," Bruce said.

"Why are you interested in Huntress all of a sudden?" Jason asked. "She's been around for months and you never seemed too interested."

"Perhaps I should have been. We encountered her last night. She could have been killed. She came close to crippling or killing herself. She's acting like an amateur, and I don't want amateurs in my city."

"She probably just had a bad night, Bruce," Dick said, rolling his eyes. "We've all been a bit off from time to time."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Tim asked. "Gut feeling?"

"Something like that," Bruce replied.

Dick and Tim nodded, Jason shrugged, and Damian gave a disinterested "Tt."

"Alright, then. You three," Bruce pointed at Jason, Tim and Damian, "are still suspended. This morning you will do school work. This afternoon, Jason will check over the vehicles in the Cave. Just make sure they're running okay, well stocked, clean. Damian, inventory the armoury. Tim, keep going with that research. I've made arrangements for your homework to be brought over, and I expect it to be done."

"How are you getting us homework?" Jason asked, "Goldbird picking it up?"

"I've got classes today, Jay," Dick mumbles. "College, remember?"

"Why, What's the point of studying Forensics and Criminology; you already know it all."

"You've asked me that at least eighteen times. The answer is still the same: Because it proves I know it. The same reason Barbara gave the seven times you asked why she's studying Computer Science."

"Why isn't she doing Drake's research?" Damian asked. "Her skills in that area are superior."

"She was patrolling last night as Batgirl," Bruce answered. "And this afternoon she has a training session in the Cave with Spoiler."

"Excellent," Dick said, cheering up. "Are they staying for dinner? Been ages since we had the girls round…"

"I believe so," Bruce replied mildly. "That reminds me, Cass called. She gets home on Saturday."

Dick and Tim beamed at the thought of their sixteen-year-old adopted sister returning from an extended vacation in Hong Kong. Jason, who didn't know her well, shrugged and continued eating. Damian, true to form, let out another "Tt."

"By the way," Bruce added. "I already enrolled her in Gotham Academy. Fortunately before you three started causing trouble. Let's not make it too hard on her, okay?"

Stony glares met him all around the table.


	5. Chapter 5: New Situation

**Family Ties Chapter 5 New Situation**

Tim looked up from the Batcomputer at the sound of footsteps on the stairway from the manor. A bubbly blonde girl his age bounced down. "Hey, Steph!" he called. "How are you doing, babe?"

"Hi, Tim," she replied, kissing him on the cheek and sliding onto his lap. In the process, she dropped her school rucksack and what appeared to be one of Dick's old satchels. "I'm good. Missed you at lunch."

"Sorry," Tim apologised. "How come you're here already?"

"Alfred gave me a lift." He raised an eyebrow. "It's compensation for Bruce telling me to get your homework."

"Just mine?"

"And Jason's, and Damian's."

"Thanks."

"No bother." She looked at the screens. One held the pictures of four dark-haired, blue-eyed young women, and the others were full of files and records. "So how's it going?"

"The facial recognition software threw a dozen hits. Half I was able to eliminate just by looking at them. The software's good, or I'd have had a hundred or so hits, but a well-trained eye's better. Over the past four hours, I've eliminated two of the remaining six possibilities."

"That sounds pretty good."

Tim tried to shrug, but her arms around his neck got in the way. Behind him, he heard the twin roars of motorbikes. He twisted, seeing Dick arrive home, followed closely by red-haired Barbara Gordon.

"Busy?" Dick smirked, pulling off his helmet.

"Not like you two have never taken five minutes to make out," Tim retorted, wrapping one arm around Steph's waist.

"Kid's got a point, Pixie Boots," Babs said, kissing Dick full on the lips. The younger couple looked away as Dick pulled Babs closer.

"Get a room, would you?" Jason's angry voice rang out, forcing them to step away. "Don't you have work, Replacement?" he added.

"Don't call me that," Tim muttered automatically as Steph slid out of his embrace. He shook his head slightly, before raising his voice. "Damian! Homework!"

Dick watched as Tim instinctively dodged the throwing knife their youngest brother sent at him as he stomped out of another part of the cave. "Lighten up, Dami," he sighed. "And stop trying to kill Tim."

"We're running out of audio-visual bugs," Damian announced. "And C4."

"Yeah, that was me," Jason said, smirking.

"I so don't want to know what you did with it," Babs, sighed. "And, Steph? Training?"

Sighing, Steph pulled three sheaves of paper from her satchel and gave them to the three younger boys before following Babs to the changing rooms. Tim shrugged. "Guess it's this for a few hours." He headed upstairs.

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Dinner was always much livelier with the girls around. Alfred seemed to appreciate their moderating influence; he always set out better quality china, knowing it was less likely to get smashed. Considering the number of plates Damian had thrown at Tim, and cups Jason had crushed from gripping too hard, it was not surprising Alfred generally gave them the cheapest crockery he could find. But Steph and Babs just being there tended to keep tempers in check, not least because Steph would come to Tim's defence without even a hint of prompting. It was louder, largely because the projectile of choice became cutting insults, as opposed to steak knives.

A side effect was that the swear jar became a lot heavier; beneficial, as Alfred frequently raided it to buy crockery. The list of forbidden words ran to ten pages, covering over a dozen languages and three forms of sign.

Jason was teaching himself Swahili; none of the others spoke it yet, and he could get in at least four swear words before Bruce cottoned on. Maybe not as creative as some of Dick's Romani, but…

Babs had been learning Dutch. All in all, dinner was loud, colourful and somewhat competitive. Most people would be surprised at the fact they all learnt insults easiest; most people would be surprised at the extent of eleven-year-old Damian's cursing vocabulary. Bruce wasn't 'most people'.

'_At least it's only swearing. There are definitely worse methods to relieve stress,'_ he thought, updating the (eleven-page-long) list.

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Tim groaned. His English homework had been relatively easy. A compare/contrast of two of Keats' poems. French would be problematic: "Describe your family, 750 words". It was the word limit that was so difficult; how _the hell_ was he supposed to describe it all in only 750 words?

'_I'll just have to write it, and then cut it down,'_ he thought.

An hour and a half later, the word count read 3,241. Tim sighed. _'I'll finish it tomorrow,'_ he thought, _'Just print it and get on with the math. Reduction's easier with hard copy.'_

There were two printers, one in the Batcave, and one in Bruce's study. The study was probably locked, but he'd been yelled at for using the cave's equipment for schoolwork before. The study was easy enough to open; the lock was for unexpected visitors, like social workers.

Just as Tim finished picking the lock, Dick barrelled down the corridor, wearing his Nightwing costume without gloves or mask. "Get Damian and Jason to the cave. Arkham trouble." He raced off in the opposite direction before Tim could ask questions.

Less than a minute later, they were all in the cave. Bruce snapped at the younger boys to change (they were "officially un-grounded"), while feed from the Asylum security guards played over the speakers.

"Batgirl and Spoiler, you have the Batmobile. Robin and I will take the Batplane. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, bikes," Batman ordered.

"Any confirmed escapees?" Red Robin asked.

"So far, just Riddler, Harley Quinn… and Joker."


	6. Chapter 6: Fear and Loathing

**Hey. Sorry for the long wait. Hopefully I will be posting chapters more frequently, but I can't guarantee it. If you think I'm taking too long, don't be afraid to drop a PM.**

**Family Ties Chapter 6 Fear and Loathing**

Red Robin dismounted from his bike and immediately snapped off a line, going straight up to the roof. He ran over to the opposite side, activating his wings and skimming down to a slightly lower building 370 meters away. They'd been informed of the attack plan on the way, and while the others were securing the Penitentiary (a de facto overflow facility for Blackgate), the High Security Block (now supporting a large hole across three floors) and the Medical Facility (which doubled as an office block), he had been assigned the Low Security Block, which housed 'normal' insane people. Spoiler may have been the better choice for the low-risk assignment, but for two factors. First, getting past the Penitentiary to the correct block without getting attacked was a difficult bit of manoeuvring requiring his flight harness, and Spoiler couldn't use it- it required calibration to the user's specific body weight distribution, and they didn't have time to refit it for her. Second, Red Robin was better at co-ordinating and tracking threats, and the easy assignment gave him leeway to keep tabs on all the different factors, thanks to a new gadget Batman gave him as they were leaving.

"Here's that Waynetech microcomputer you were helping develop," he'd growled. "Prototype. Needs field testing. Don't break it." He'd nodded, eager to get his hands on the smartphone-sized laptop. After weeks of exchanging specs with the R&D section, it was good to see the finished product and start downloading Arkham's personnel and inmate files from the Batcomputer, ready for business.

Now, he was helping the nursing staff herd near-oblivious mental patients into a defendable common room, frequently using the thumb operated miniature keyboard to update the statuses on his list of Arkham inmates.

"_Zsasz contained,"_ said Spoiler through the comms, and his heart burned with pride.

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Spoiler restrained a smirk as she hauled her captive to his feet. Robin had suggested a variation on the usual plan; half the cops and guards waited outside while the other half aided in cleaning house. After a bat took down an inmate, a cop secured the prisoner, freeing the vigilantes from having to worry about their backs or guard the semi-conscious hoards. The cops outside were receiving and guarding prisoners on a rotating system; when one man came out with prisoners, another would go back in in his place. This reduced the risk of enemies reviving and causing more problems as well as giving injured men a graceful retreat. A very insightful plan; Spoiler was reluctantly impressed Robin was capable of such depth.

After less than a minute of pushing Zsasz through the medical facility, she met up with a half dozen guards fresh from a skirmish with Cavalier. Updating Red Robin, she gave Zsasz to a bleeding guard before continuing towards the pharmacy. Batman had stressed that securing the asylum's drug supply was a priority, but she'd kept running into trouble.

It was soon apparent that she was too late. Several orderlies lay around, either screaming their heads off, or still. A faint miasma hung in the air. Even through her full-face mask, she could taste something…off. She rounded a corner, into darkness.

Through the gloom, a spectral figure could just be glimpsed. An eerily familiar figure. "Fa-" gasped Spoiler, before catching herself. It wasn't quite right. She reactivated her comm. "Red Robin. Cluemaster's status?"

"_Sighted leaving premises,"_ he replied. _"Sorry."_

"I think…Scarecrow," she whispered, as her father's ghost approached.

"Well, Steph?" he said. "Aren't you going to help me? Villains can have sidekicks too."

"I'm not a sidekick. I'm a junior partner. And I'd never be yours." She faced he hallucination defiantly. "What do you stand for, incompetent thievery?"

Once she'd been scared of her father's wrath should he find out she moonlighted with Batman and his partners. But now she'd moved up the foodchain, and her father…hadn't. What had she to fear?

A sudden blow to her side sent Spoiler doubling over in agony; old, almost forgotten wounds starting to twinge once more. Another blow from the other side made her lose her balance, sprawling forwards. Twisting, she looked back. There were two- no, the vapours were distorting her vision- _six_ big, muscular men. Another blink- cursed smoky stuff- and they were armed. Rifles, tazers, metal pipes. The phantom pains intensified, fresh agonies rolling through her. Instinctively, she curled up, protecting her organs from the remembered- no, it was real it was happening right now- blows. Something sharp swiped across the joint between mask and collar, and her vision waivered. She looked up, seeing the sadistically sneering visage of her tormentor. Her blood froze.

The past pain consuming her, she shrieked, yelling down the comm, "Black Mask!"

Any reply was drowned out by her screams. She curled tighter in fear. After a seeming eternity of hits and shocks, it ceased. Her bleary eyes caught sight of something red and black.

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Red Robin knelt next to the trembling form of Spoiler. She squealed and pulled away. Sighing, he pulled a ready-prepared syringe from his belt, seized her flailing arm, and jabbed the needle into a weak point in her armour in the elbow. He swiftly pushed the plunger, dispensing the antitoxin, and waited for her to calm.

Spoiler's breathing was still laboured, catching in a manner more in tune with injury than panic. He gently ran his hands down her torso, feeling her ribs, and noted three cracks. Nothing too serious, and it wouldn't ruin her beautiful curves. As always, he was caught by the gorgeous dichotomy of his love's appearance. Her costume was an elegant mixture of her first Spoiler and her Batgirl suits. The suit itself was one of the Batgirl ones; she'd simply removed the bat. But the black face mask and long purple cape, with its hood attaching to her mask, were the same as her first nights as Spoiler. Except stuffed with gadgetry. The combination made her look more beautiful than ever.

She finally lay still, and he could get close enough to pull her breath mask from her belt and slide it over her mouth beneath the covering. The fear gas still hung heavily in the air, and he'd had to pull four men out already. He was just glad he'd thought to get extra bottles of antitoxin on his way over, and use his own breath mask.

"T-T-Tim?" she stuttered, voice muffled by the breath mask.

"It's okay, Spoiler," he replied gently. "You just had to go a few with Crane."

"No, not Crane," she said. "Black Mask. We have to get him!"

For a moment, Red Robin didn't know what to say. Although Spoiler had nearly been killed at Black Mask's hands only a few years ago, he'd been found dead not long after. The gunman's identity was still a mystery. But clearly the toxin had been pretty strong.

"Don't worry," Red Robin told her. "He can't hurt you."

Spoiler just looked at him, then nodded. She tried to stand, but fell over. He carefully lifted her, letting her lean on his shoulder while he tapped his comm. "Batgirl, we need to evacuate the building. There's fear toxin loose. Four civilians, unconscious, outside the pharmacy. I'm inside with Spoiler, two thugs and Scarecrow. She's in a bad way."

As he finished, he saw a dark, pointy eared shadow approach. A black leather glove opened the door. The dark figure stepped into the room.

"Need help?" asked Catwoman.

**AN: If you have any questions about anything that's happening, please feel free to ask in a review or PM. I will either PM you an answer or, if you are a guest or the same question is asked several times, I will post the answer at the end of the next chapter.**

**Also, this fic will be multi-arc. I'm thinking of separating the arcs into different stories (partly because there will be at least one crossover) and putting the flashbacks into a separate story. What do you think? Again, please tell me via review/PM. Thank you.**

**Katara Harkness**


	7. Chapter 7: Sneaking and Striking

**Family Ties Chapter 7 Sneaking and Striking**

Catwoman peered over the perimeter wall at Arkham Asylum unnoticed by the horde of police and guards filling the area. Watching their constantly shifting attention, she shimmied along and flipped into the compound, sheltering beneath a seemingly unattended prisoner-transfer van. From the clamour above her, it was stuffed full of would-be escapees. From the chatter at the front, they were guarded by two cops who'd helped catch them and been wounded. New Bat-strategy. Interesting.

Next problem: finding a Bat who'd listen to the intell she'd picked up. Bruce would listen; Nightwing and Red Robin too. They'd worked together enough for a level of trust to develop. The girls as well- but it was just Batgirl and Spoiler around at the moment, right? Blackbat had most recently been sighted in Hong Kong (not that she was sighted much wherever she was) but knowing Bruce she'd be back sooner or later. He'd been…touchy about his family since the second Robin's disappearance. She'd really have to get the full story about that some time; she kept picking up conflicting rumours. Dead, run away…all she knew was the kid's going had really, really upset him.

But she didn't want to run into Red Hood (he'd taken pot-shots at her once) or the newest Robin. So, which building should she look in? The Bat would probably be in the thick of it in the High Sec block, but so would that little demon of a baby bird. Maybe talk to one of the others first?

In the midst of her deliberations, she almost missed it. A red and black shape with flaring wings swept down, landing beside the collection of vehicles. Red Robin. After a moment rummaging in the rear storage compartment of his bike, he sprinted off and entered the Med Facility.

Smirking slightly, Catwoman slunk out and around the van, taking shelter behind a burned-out guard hut. From the smell of roasted flesh, it _had_ been occupied. Evidently Firebug had been an inmate, though not necessarily anymore. Curling her lip in distaste, she climbed on the remains of the roof, took her whip from her waist and leapt. The whip flicked out and wrapped around a security camera on the side of the Med Facility and, as the bracket snapped, the momentum swung her round so she could grasp a windowsill. Clawed fingers making purchase on the surrounding brickwork, she forced open the window and slid inside.

The first floor was dark and gloomy, filling slowly with smoke. A scream cut through the haze, and another, and another. A girl's scream. Catwoman turned, sprinting noiselessly towards the source. As she approached, she heard other sounds; the screams breaking off into sobs; thuds and grunts; low, muffled voices. The pharmacy. She pushed open the door.

Spoiler was curled up on the floor, breathing heavily, and Red Robin was trying to help her up, while muttering into his comm. At their feet were two thugs, unconscious, with no sign of weapons, and Scarecrow, also out, syringe-glove leaking fluid. "Need help?" she asked.

Red Robin's face was unreadable, but his jerky gesture towards her mouth betrayed a moment of panic. "Mask!" he hissed, voice muffled by his…Oh. Right. _Breath_ mask. She quickly pulled hers from her belt- a gift from the Bat, when she'd decided to pretty much toe the line, along with her current costume of black leather over several layers of Kevlar and smart polymers. Red Robin was speaking again. "We're evacuating the building. Can you take Spoiler?"

Catwoman nodded, supporting the girl. "Picked up some interesting information-" she started.

"Can it wait until we've secured Arkham?" She nodded. "Good. Nightwing says he and Hood can't hold the Penitentiary; maybe a third of the inmates could be busting out any minute, and we need to get the civilians from here to the Low Sec block; it's secure." He knelt, cuffed Scarecrow, and hauled him up as another figure slipped into the room. Batgirl. She bent to pick up the two thugs, her orange hair starting to matt with blood from her own battles.

"I've told the guards to herd the civilians out," she said, leading the way to the fire escape. "And avoid this floor. Spoiler's lot got the ones you pulled out of the gas. If I take them all to the Penitentiary, can you hold the Low Sec block?"

Red Robin nodded. "Yeah. Catwoman, take Spoiler's comm. She'll be out for the rest of the night, bad dose of fear toxin."

"Will she be alright?" asked Catwoman, gently removing the comm.

"I'll give her a check once the block's secured," he replied. She nodded, one of the larger orderlies coming and scooping Spoiler up at Red Robin's request. The crowd split as they left the building; the cops and guards following Batgirl to the Penitentiary and the medical personnel and patients with Red Robin over to the Low Sec block. Catwoman slid the comm around her ear, heading for the gutted High Sec block.

"_-beauty in motion,"_ Nightwing was saying, while Batgirl chuckled.

"_No flirting on the comm-line,"_ growled the Bat.

"Sure you want to say that, tall-dark-n-handsome?" Catwoman asked, jumping through the hole in the second floor into chaos.

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Red Robin pulled a miniature, multi-power flashlight from his belt, set it on low, and shone it in Spoiler's eyes. _'Uneven dilation, not good,'_ he thought, cradling her jaw as he kept her unmasked face turned away from the room's other occupants. "Follow the light, babe, just look at the light," he murmured gently, moving the flashlight left, right, up and down. _'Blood vessels standing out. That's…unusual._' He released her, carefully reattaching the mask to her hood, and slipped off her right glove, pulling the sleeve back to her elbow. The veins stood out clearly, her muscles taut with tension. Imploring her to relax, he pulled out a needle and took a blood sample, before giving her another shot of antitoxin mixed with sedative. Spoiler stiffened, and relaxed, falling unconscious. Red Robin laid her out on a spare couch, before looking round at his charges.

The room they were in was usually used as a dining hall-slash-group therapy room. One half had couches and squashy armchairs, the other long tables and stackable chairs. The windows along the outside wall had reinforced shutters specifically for such circumstances. Now, the tables were being used as makeshift beds for the patients evacuated from the Med Facility, and the three dozen or so Low Sec inmates were being watched by about as many doctors, orderlies and assorted care workers. Two couches were blocking the door.

One of the doctors came over. "Will the girl be okay?" she asked compassionately.

"She'll be fine, Dr Whistler," Red Robin said with a wry smile. "Bad dose of toxin. She'll sleep it off and be right as rain." He turned his attention to the microcomputer. Colour coded lists of inmates played across the tiny screen as he updated the records. But when he tried to hack into the cameras, the connection to the Batcomputer collapsed. _'Probably couldn't handle the processing power of the mainframe. It __is__ only a prototype, I guess…_' He set it to reboot, just as Nightwing's voice came across the comm.

"_Red Robin, we can't hold 'em all. 'Bout ten, twelve, converging on your position."_

"Copy that, I'm on it." He secured the computer in his belt and hauled the couches from the door. "Barricade this behind me and don't remove it 'til I give the all-clear," he called out behind him, slipping into the hall. He prepped a smoke bomb, readied a handful of batarangs, snapped out his staff, and waited.

When the thugs charged up to his floor, he flicked the smoke bomb with his left thumb while keeping the batarangs clenched in his fingers. His night vision lenses already active, he swept the staff out low, knocking down three. The batarangs flew out, drugged tips downing three more. A few more moments and all eleven were unconscious from a variety of kicks, punches, hits and nerve pinches. "Low Sec re-secured," he reported.

"_Asylum secured,"_ Batman told him. _"Red Robin, report. Who's escaped?"_

He pushed his hair from his face, rubbing a sore rib from a lucky hit. "Give me a minute there, boss."

"_While we wait, who wants to know who was behind this?"_ Catwoman offered.

**A/N: Hey, and thanks for reading. Last chapter, I asked for your opinion regarding separating story arcs into their own stories. This inquiry is an attempt to increase the ease of reading for you, dear reader. Please, please, please help me help you. So far I have had no replies to the question, but the traffic stats tell me there have been plenty of readers. So, please, drop me a PM or a review.**

**Also, if you have any issues with my writing or want clarification in some area, leave a review or PM me.**

**Thank you.**

**Katara Harkness**


	8. Chapter 8: Allies In The Night

As you can probably see, I've renamed this fic as it is a multi-arc, and I'm separating the arcs. I've also removed the flashback chapter and will be reposting it in a new story, along with other flashbacks. This story will be entitled "Wayne's Boys: Flashback", which may not be very imaginative but is hopefully fool-proof. If not, sorry. I've also fixed up some format errors in the previous chapters, and I hope to edit and improve the earliest chapters. If you're a returning reader, it probably doesn't make any significant difference at this point- I'll tell you when I repost edited chapters. If you're a new reader, I hope you're enjoying it. As always, feel free to reivew/PM any questions about anything you read.

**Family Ties Chapter 8 Allies Slinking Through the Night**

Red Hood warily watched the organized chaos surrounding him. Paramedics swarmed around injured cops and guards. The Replacem- _Red Robin_- was moving among the vans, putting names to faces and ticking off Penitentiary inmates. A specialized squad had just arrived to de-fumigate the Med Facility. Catwoman had settled the unconscious Spoiler in the Batmobile and was watching over her. Security Chief Aaron Cash was gesturing with his left-hand hook, instructing still-active personnel in returning prisoners to cells. Batgirl and Robin were assisting in restraining High Sec residents in preparation for transport. Commissioner Gordon was speaking to Batman about who knows what. And he himself was planted on the Batmobile's hood with his suit's shirt hitched up to his armpits so Nightwing could stitch up a long, messy and bloody but shallow laceration in his side. He winced.

"Hold still, little wing," Nightwing sighed. "It'll hurt less if you stop twitching."

"Stop fussing, it's fine," Red Hood griped.

"Uh-huh. That's why you're so pale." Nightwing sighed in exasperation. "I think you'll need a transfusion when we get back. I think it nicked the vein. You lost a hell of a lot of blood." He finished sewing, tying off the thread and cutting away the excess. He pulled out a role of bandages. "That was a neat trick you pulled with Two-Face."

"Huh?" Red Hood said, startled by the change in subject.

"Yep. I mean, catching the coin before it lands is _old_, but I don't think anyone's shot it with paintballs before." Nightwing gave him a sidelong grin before finishing with the dressing and pulling his shirt down. "All done now."

"Finally," Red Hood grumbled, pulling his black leather jacket, heavy with weaponry, back on. He wasn't about to admit he'd been aiming for Two-Face's face (heh) now was he?

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Batman followed Gordon's gaze over to his two eldest. "Glad you've got Hood under control," Gordon said gruffly. Batman inclined his head slightly; it was a group effort, but it was so good to have his prodigal son home. "Mind you," Gordon continued, "the criminal Red Hood didn't have that bat on his chest, Mustn't jump to conclusions. Wouldn't do to just accuse him of murder…" The hidden meaning was clear; Gordon would trust Hood, to a degree, as long as he wore the bat. As long as he identified himself as family. Gordon had made similar comments when Catwoman went from her grey suit to the black. It was his way of giving her- and now Hood- a clean slate.

Cash came over. "Anyone know why so many thugs have these little red welts?" he asked. He wasn't upset, just curious.

"Rubber bullets," Batman said simply. Both men glanced automatically towards Hood.

"Same as the paintballs and tranq darts, huh?" Cash shook his head, amused. "Very effective. Could get to like that boy."

"He's a work in progress," Gordon agreed. Batman just watched as Nightwing wrapped Hood's wound, warmth and love for his brother radiating from his smile. Hood deserved his big brother after all he'd been through. His thoughts were broken by the near-silent footfalls of his third son behind him.

"Commissioner Gordon? Chief Cash? Sir?" said Red Robin, startling the other two with his quiet voice. "I have the figures for the breakout." Batman gestured for him to continue. "Low Sec. No escapes. Two cases of severe panic attacks. Overall, no significant problems." His thumbs tapped his new microcomputer's miniature keyboard, pulling up a new file. "The Penitentiary. Of the sixty inmates, thirteen escaped, seven were killed by either security staff or other inmates, and ten will require hospitalization. That's half the block's population."

"Had worse figures," Cash muttered. Gordon nodded, gesturing Red Robin on.

"The Medical Facility had three guards in for various injuries sustained in breaking up a fight between Jane Doe and Magpie earlier today- well, yesterday- in the mess hall." He glanced up at Cash, who nodded. "The men are fine. They'll require further observation to be sure the evacuation didn't exacerbate the injuries, as will four orderlies, a nurse and a doctor who were caught in the toxin. Other than that, all medical staff are unharmed. There were no other patients at the time of the breakout."

"Lucky," Gordon murmured.

"Protocols, Commissioner," Cash said. "We introduce new ones fairly regularly to try and keep casualties down. But you and Batgirl did great with the evac, kid."

Red Robin inclined his head in gratitude. His performance tonight had, indeed, been excellent, if a little hasty in going to Spoiler's, half-raised eyebrow telling him to continue.

"Right. High Sec. That's not so good. Most of the remaining inmates require medical treatment, mostly breaks and fractures. Escapes…"

"Who?" Gordon sighed.

"Joker, Harley, Ivy, Riddler, Cluemaster, Croc, Lady Vic, Cain."

"Cain?" Batman asked. Strange, he hadn't shown any desire to leave before.

"Yes, sir," nodded Red Robin. "No-one's seen him since before the explosion. His cell's open due to the hole in the wall. We could do a search, but…"

"Don't bother." The three men and one boy looked round at Catwoman, coming over to join the conversation she'd heard through Red Robin's open comm. "Word is he arranged this."

"Any specifics?"

"Not really, Heard someone was looking for a safehouse. Last week got word of a purchase of explosives. Tonight I got the name, and heard what was happening."

"This isn't really his style," mused Red Robin. "He's stealthy."

"Distraction," Batman concluded.

"For what purpose?" asked Gordon.

"Didn't he give Vic some training once?" Red Robin asked. "She's never made it out without help before."

"I also heard Deadshot's coming back," added Catwoman. "Another trainee?"

Nightwing had drifted over, Red Hood following with an almost tangible air of grumpiness. "Vic and Deadshot tag-teamed me once in New York," Nightwing offered.

"In my experience, assassins do not congregate unless ordered." Robin had very nearly snuck up on them; Gordon and Cash hadn't heard his virtually noiseless approach. "Or competing for a contract," he added.

"Vic's cell was forced," Batgirl reported. "Cain's style."

"If they were competing, he would have left her," Robin said.

"What does Cain need two assassins for?" Hood asked doubtfully.

Batman looked at Catwoman. She sighed. "There was one other phrase batted around. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. 'The one who is all'?"

Batman's jaw locked as he thought of his absent daughter. _'Cassandra…'_


	9. Chapter 9: I Thought You Loved Her

**Family Ties Chapter 9 I Thought You Loved Her**

Damian wasn't talking. He carefully maintained an air of offended disgruntlement that only moronic plebs would call sulking. Moronic plebs like his…_brothers_. He had good reason to be offended. His father, his _own father_, was spending the evening with that _slut_, insulting his mother and half his heritage inexcusably.

Yes, he'd left his mother, chosen his father's family over her League and been declared an enemy of House al Ghul. Yes, he feared that that half his heritage would hurt his new life. But that didn't mean his father should play around with that sneak-thief!

And now she was staying the night. Couldn't she tell when she was not wanted?

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Dick knew Damian was sulking. It radiated off him in waves. He'd deny it, of course. Accusing the scion of the House al Ghul and the Wayne line of sulking was not a mistake you made more than once. Well, twice. Okay, three times.

It was really obvious from the way he stomped around, wordlessly helping restock the vehicles with smoke bombs and medical supplies and shooting glares at all the cave's other occupants, Bruce and Tim at the computer, Jason and Alfred starting a blood transfusion from pre-stocked banks, and Babs and Selina settling Stephanie in the infirmary. The girls would probably stay the night; Babs' dad and Stephanie's mom were used to dinner at the manor turning into a sleepover.

But Dami seemed to have a problem. Not good. And Dami was probably too proud to ask for help, even after the late-night discussion the previous day. He'd have to do something about it himself.

He skipped over and wrapped his arms around his youngest brother. "What's the matter, Little D? I hear you and Bruce did quite a number on Bane. Aren't you proud?"

"Get off, Grayson," Damian snarled. "I hardly think you would be bothered by such matters as gross paternal infidelity." His jaw clamped shut as if he'd said too much.

Dick released him, momentarily unable to formulate a response. Bruce was unfaithful? Sure, he'd been flirting with Lois at the Labor Day Charity Gala, but both Selina and Clark knew he never meant anything by it. Before he could work it out, Bruce had stood and beckoned Damian. "We need to talk."

"What?" Damian said.

"Upstairs. Now," Bruce growled, stalking up and out of the cave. Damian trailed after him.

Dick gazed after his surrogate father, then looked over at the rest of the family. Jason was sitting back on the bed, fiddling with the tube linking his arm to the transfusion bag. He was not-watching in the way that meant he was keeping a close eye in the reflection in the Batcomputer's screen. Alfred had left to move Steph into the more comfortable bay deeper within the cave. Tim had stopped fiddling with his new toy, the screen showing a universal syncing logo, and gazed longingly after Bruce and Damian. Then, after a moment, He shook his head dismissively and turned back to the computer.

Even though the gesture hadn't been directed towards anyone, Tim's thoughts were easy to read. _Sure, it would be nice to know what they were saying, but it's too much hassle, _and_ let's not pressure the little demon-bird_. Dami might not be a demon (except to Tim) but Dick couldn't fault his reasoning. Babs slipped over, sliding an arm round his waist and pulling him towards the showers, and, well, Bruce seemed to have it sorted. He wasn't really needed up there tonight.

As he left the main chamber, he just glimpsed Selina, face thunderstruck, sneaking up the passageway.

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Bruce was slightly worn out. The break-out had taken hours to sort out, and if it hadn't been so close to dawn, they'd have started on the round up by now. As it was, he was just glad Alfred had thought to clear his morning so he didn't have any meetings to wake up to. He still wanted to call Cassandra, and tell his daughter to be careful. But first, it seemed his youngest was…jealous.

"Damian," he said, cutting across the boy's semi-coherent tirade. "Simplify, please."

Damian dropped into the study chair in front of the desk. "It's just, I…I thought you loved her."

Bruce dragged another chair round and sat across from him. "You mother? Yes, I love her."

His eyes were sceptical. "Then how can you mess around with that Kyle woman?"

Bruce shrugged. "I love Selina too." Damian looked confused. A sigh. "Look, let's go back a few years. I had left Gotham and was travelling the world, looking for someone who could teach me all I needed to know for the mission. As you know, I found the League of Shadows. So I met your mother.

"There were other girls, sort of. There was Julie Madison, a family friend. We had some great times, but there wasn't really a spark. She's in Africa with the Peace Corps, left Gotham shortly after I did. A second cousin I was set up with once. Didn't work out…"

Damian smirked. "Kate Kane?" They'd all heard of how she'd been discharged from West Point military academy for breaching 'don't ask, don't tell', and Damian clearly liked the thought of him being rejected for once. Maybe he thought it was just desserts that he'd be jilted at least once, especially with his misguided ideas about true fidelity, and whom one should be faithful to. Bruce mildly wondered if Dick had told his brother their suspicions Kate was Batwoman, and the true nature of her relationship with GCPD cop Renee Montoya, who they were fairly sure was her night-time partner the Question…They could discuss it another time.

"Anyway," Bruce continued, feeling a decade younger just bringing up the memories, "when I first saw Talia, she blew me away. I wanted her speed, her skill, her inner and outer strength, her grace…and I wanted her to join me on the mission, come to Gotham with me and be the focus of a society wedding that would be talked about for decades."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Tt. That's _not_ Mother."

Bruce smiled ruefully and continued. "Well, no. But I thought she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, after a bit she noticed me too. When I realized she liked me, it was the best thing in the world. Being with her was better than being with Kate, or Julie. And so I asked her to marry me and move to Gotham. She accepted, then asked me to stay with her and help her take over the world from the shadows.

"Our entire engagement consisted of mostly arguing. Eventually I remembered something my father once said: "Love alone does not a marriage make." While I loved Talia, and still do, I couldn't live with her and build a life with her. We're just too different. We were both asking for compromises the other couldn't give. It would never have worked. So I broke it off and returned to Gotham."

"She told it differently," Damian muttered.

"I dare say she did. Neither of us came away very happy. I still love her. She was the first woman I truly loved, and nothing will change that."

"Then why Kyle?"

"Ah, Selina." Bruce felt his lips curling upwards as he thought of the beautiful woman he adored. While the memory of Talia was tinged with regret and heartache, Selina...Selina made him feel hope. "She doesn't have Talia's haughty grace, but her way of moving is uniquely elegant. She isn't as sharp -edged and sophisticated, she's soft and playful. Almost too playful, a bit unpredictable. But when I asked her to stop stealing, she compromised. That's the difference. We were able to reconcile our differences and don't ask for what the other can't give.

"I love her. Maybe more, maybe less, maybe equally to your mother. I don't love Selina less for having loved your mother; I don't love Talia less for having fallen in love with Selina. But Selina…"

"You could build a life with her." Damian looked strangely blank as he concluded.

"I think I could," Bruce agreed. "But we'll have to see." He smiled at his son. "Don't look so worried. You're non-negotiable. I'm not letting anyone get between me and my children, including you." Noting his strangely relieved half-smile, he rose and pulled the boy up. "Now bed. You've got school in the morning."

As Damian left, he picked up the phone and dialed a number in Hong Kong.

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Selina just managed to hide before Damian emerged. The boy's words had worried and angered her so much; she'd been under the impression the string of women Bruce took to functions and such were completely meaningless (because he'd told her so, and Dick had told her, during Bruce's…absence, that he hardly ever looked twice at a woman in private), but the boys would know if there was a new woman in their mentor/father's life. It hadn't occurred to her that Damian would see _her _as the new woman. It was almost a comfort that the kid would blow up over her and not one of the omnipresent bimbos. For her, Talia wasn't an issue. Bruce had told her about his past love-life when they first started seeing each other off the rooftops. She'd replied with a list of all the foolish but harmless high society chumps she'd stolen from.

She listened as Bruce called Cassandra, and tried to imagine building a life with him. A life with half a dozen children already in the house (she'd never even _thought_ of trying to negotiate that point). A life shared with not just the gruff, rugged hero of the streets she first saw all those years ago, and not just the mercurial and occasionally brilliant playboy billionaire CEO the public saw, but also with the strangely tender father. If they decided to risk it, they might be able to build a wonderful life together. Maybe even 'til death did they part.

**AN: It feels like ages since I updated. As you may have noticed, a couple of other things happened instead. (Thanks, by the way, if you read/ reviewed/ favorited/ followed one of the others.) A lot of you have said how much you enjoy watching the familial interactions play out, and the good news is, next chapter has even more! Watch this space: more to follow.**

**As always, please leave feedback, and feel free to ask any questions that may arise either via review or PM. I aim to make reading my stories the best I can.**

**Katara Harkness**


	10. Chapter 10: A Truce, In Public

**Family Ties Chapter 10 A Truce, In Public**

Jason was smarter than most people realized. Yeah, he'd been bumped down to sophomore, but that was due to lack of credits. He'd still ended up in AP with the Replacement (Tim, must remember to call him Tim), who'd managed to skip a year when he first came to live with Bruce.

Bruce may have taken him in, but he didn't trust him with his identity or the position of Robin until he'd proved himself physically, mentally and intellectually. He had to get the hang of basic detective work, languages, and the instinctual physics of grappling around the city. He had to learn quickly.

The real problem with school was how restrictive it felt. He'd been free to live he liked for a few years, and now he had to be places at certain times. It was so frustrating. Which was why he was taking it so badly…

Goldie had somehow picked it up, and had a long talk the afternoon he'd been suspended. Told him to just get the grades and then he wouldn't have to worry about Bruce benching him. The possibility that the old grades-or-bench rule was still in force for him hadn't occurred to him. Well, the work wasn't too bad at least – he _had_ picked up a few things over the years.

Still, that wasn't the most comforting thought half way through Geometry and Pre-Calc. Just because he could do it didn't mean he wanted to. Doing math was like eating sprouts. Ugh.

And then French before lunch. He was already fluent. What fun.

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Tim had been keeping an eye on Jason all morning. He didn't seem to be blowing up again, but they hadn't faced Chemistry yet…

Maybe he'd worked off all the stress in the Asylum last night. They had all seemed mellower at breakfast. Probably relief; that the break-out had been so tame (by Arkham standards), if long, and that they'd worked so well together, better than ever. Tim carefully filed the theory away for later consideration.

Now they had lunch. There was always good food (the school could afford it, if the bills Bruce got were any indication), with quite a variety. But today, Jason had a specific diet, and Tim, on Alfred's orders as well as his own volition, had to make sure he stuck to it.

"Red meat, liver if possible, green leafy vegetables. Remember?" he muttered to the younger of his older brothers.

Jason gave him a dirty look. "Don't tell me what to eat," he snarked.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Fine, but don't blame me when Alfred gets mad," he said coolly.

Jason grumbled unintelligibly, but got a plate of beef stew, spinach side salad and can of Coke. Suppressing a smirk, Tim chose his favourite chicken casserole, mashed potato and fruit smoothie. They paid with pre-loaded meal cards, and grabbed an empty table. Jason speared a forkful of salad, glared at it and grumbled "I hate spinach," before stuffing it in his mouth.

"Then why are you eating it, idiot?" The boys looked up as one of the boys from their English class (not available as AP, irritatingly) and his two cronies sat opposite them.

Tim glared, answering for Jason, who had yet to succeed in swallowing. "He's coming down with anaemia. High iron diet until it clears up."

The boy (Darren, wasn't it?) sneered. "Can't even talk, huh, street rat? Too thick to go back one year, now too thick to speak for yourself-"

"Hey!" Jason snarled, but he was drowned out by Tim slamming his hands on the table and standing, looming over the other boys.

"Listen," he growled- Bat-growled, even. "You _little boys_ think you know hardship. Your mommy got you the wrong X-box game? I never heard a kind word from my mother before she was killed. Daddy get you a Blackberry not an iPhone? I saw my father murdered and was left standing in his blood. Girlfriend stood you up? Mine was beaten within an inch of her life and she still has nightmares. You think you know what it means to have your life collapse? If you went through a fraction of what I have, you'd go screaming for the hills. And guess what? Jason has had it a thousand times worse. If I had to deal with his issues, I'd break in two. So believe me, it's a testament to his strength that he can even function in society. Going back two years? Piffle. Not fitting into any of your little boxes? That's so far from being a concern it's not even on the horizon.

Tim held still for a moment, watching the shock of his opponents and sensing Jason's confusion next to him. Before anyone could say a word, Damian appeared and slammed down his curry. "Why are you so bothered, Drake?" he asked.

Tim took a breath to calm down. "These…boys…were belittling our brother's intelligence."

Damian frowned around a forkful of rice. "Grayson has intelligence?"

Tim spent a few seconds just blinking past Jason at his youngest brother. Was Damian refusing to acknowledge Jason as their brother? They were both so touchy about family. A tiny, almost miss-able smirk played over Damian's lips. A joke. Would Jason see it like that? Hopefully Jason wouldn't blow up…

Instead, he burst out laughing. "I knew we had something in common, kid," he chortled. Darren and his hangers-on seemed completely unnerved at the sight; they had just received a little horror story, after all. Tim just smiled, relaxing at everyone's reactions, and sat back down to resume eating.

Another tray was set down next to Tim's; Steph had found them. Her soft brown eyes showed some of the pain of last night's hallucinations and the strain of 'normality'. He smiled warmly at his love, draping his left arm around her shoulders. He looked at her meal: comfort food. "Pizza? Chips?"

She shrugged, not enough to dislodge his arm. "I like it. So sue me." Her eyes flickered over to the still-chuckling Jason, smug Damian and stunned schoolboys. "What did I miss?"

Tim quickly relayed the basics of the conversation, skimming over his own speech to get to Damian's punch line. It had been pretty funny. Steph agreed.

"I am so telling Babs," she giggled.

"Make sure Goldie overhears," Jason suggested. "He needs taking down a notch."

The strange little family all smiled and laughed at the thought. Tim could see the bully-boys were now thoroughly intimidated at the abrupt mood change; only Darren's pride kept them from fleeing with their tails between their legs. However, something was bothering Jason. He furrowed his eyebrows in question.

"_Tim, did you really mean all that?"_ Jason asked in Japanese. _"You defended me…"_

He shrugged. _"Of course I did. You're my brother,"_ he replied in the same language (when did Jason pick up Japanese anyway?). _"We may have issues, but let's have a united front in public."_

"_Gold Bird had a talk with you too, huh?"_

"_Actually, I figured that out from watching you two in action last night." _He put down his fork and steepled his fingers. _"We still have issues. Plenty of them. I know you find our elder brother overbearingly affectionate, but you two worked well together. And you certainly could have made a lot more of a fuss when he was stitching you up. I mean, I did hear you yelling at him afterwards, but out there, you two managed to cooperate. So, if you and he can keep your differences off the streets, we can keep ours out of the classroom. Let's call it truce. We can always re-negotiate later when we've laid to rest our problems with each other."_ He ducked his head, once again shovelling mash into his mouth to hide the fact he'd said more than he meant to. He still caught the decidedly embarrassed note of Jay's reply.

"_Well. Okay then. A truce. In public."_

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Steph didn't recognize the language. It was something oriental, she could tell that much. She'd concentrated on Scandinavian and Eastern European languages, which fit better with her ethnicity. But she could read body language, the dozens of tiny micro-gestures that, when tightly controlled, gave rise to what the rest of their community called "Bat-talk". So she could tell some things.

First, Damian understood every word. Surprise, surprise.

Second, Jason was confused, asking Tim about something.

Third, Tim was a little embarrassed, and hesitant, but sure of his words.

Fourth, they'd reached an agreement, and whatever it was, they intended to stick to it.

**AN: Okay, another bit of fluff to come down from the major excitement at Arkham. Next chapter has more action, but a different sort of action, and will involve Cassandra.**

**Also, I've started a crossover with the Dark Knight films, set just prior to the beginning of this fic. It's called Black and Red. Feel free to check it out.**

**As always, reviews appreciated, and feel free to ask questions either in a PM or a review.**

**Katara**


	11. Chapter 11: Injustice

**AN: Thanks for reading my works, whether this is the first time you've clicked on this story or you're a long term returning reader. Before we start into the next chapter, two things.**

**First, an apology. I missed out a key word in the first paragraph of the last chapter. It's now corrected, and to save you going back, I'll just clarify now that Jason and Tim are sophomores. As stated previously, Tim skipped a year and Jason was held back two.**

**Second, a warning. PLEASE READ THIS. This chapter is a lot darker than the others, and dwells somewhat on the nastier side of humanity. Nothing explicit, but there is quite a lot implied. If you find the prospect distasteful, you may wish to miss this chapter, and the next two, which will be direct continuations before returning to the main story back in Gotham. I will insert a quick note at the beginning of chapter 14 to give a basic summary.**

**Family Ties Chapter 11 Injustice**

Cassandra Cain-Wayne, once Batgirl, now Black Bat, was lurking in the darkness. She was very good at it. Her costume had been modified slightly, a thin jacket replacing her cape and covering the half-faded bat symbol. The cape was actually rolled up in a special pocket in the back, easily accessible if needed. But while she might need to draw on her affiliation with Batman Inc., she wasn't supposed to be there.

She was meant to be in Hong Kong. She'd been in Cebu, the Philippines, for four days.

Her case had shifted. An unusually profitable import/export company turned out not to be working with the local triad, but was receiving suspicious crates from the Philippines. Smuggling. Standard procedure dictated full investigation; from shipping companies and fronts to businesses sending and receiving, to any politicians or officials getting their pockets lined in bribes. Well-recorded, well-documented evidence could do wonders. With that brief in mind, she hadn't risked exposing herself to get at the contraband back in Hong Kong- there hadn't been a safe enough opportunity, and the next wasn't prepped to go yet. Probably arms, or drugs. There'd be later opportunities.

Now, she was lurking in the darkness at the docks, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for another shipment. Waiting for a lead.

Her lead came two hours later in the form of a pair of bored dock hands. "Nah, Hong Kong shipments are every other week, remember? The manifests are in their own file in the manager's office. Every other week, for five years." The man sighed enviously. "Think how many they've shifted by now."

His friend barked with laughter, and they kept going. After a moment, their silent watcher moved away. She had to be in Gotham before the next shipment, but she could get the manifests and maybe trace the supplier. Chances were the shipping firm didn't have knowledge of in whatever illegal activity was involved- even Wayne Shipping had unknowingly shifted for a smuggler once. (Bruce had been furious; he'd vowed it would never happen again, and vigorously investigated everyone before letting any future contracts be signed. Dick and Tim went one better; during their time leading Wayne Enterprises together, they leaked a suspicious contract proposal to Commissioner Gordon, who reported it to Batman, who "liaised with Wayne" to catch the recipient red-handed.) But the shipping records were extremely useful when building the case.

Cass padded into the empty manager's office, silently groaning at the sight of all the filing cabinets. This could take a while, unless…let's see, twenty-six a year, five years, one hundred thirty shipments? In one file? Big file. She opened the first cabinet, found all the drawers full of wafer-thin files, and moved on. In the fourth cabinet, she hit jackpot. The 'file' was actually several stapled together. She pulled out a high memory digital camera and photographed each page as quickly as possible. Dawn was approaching as she finished. And the last page had a note, with the address to be notified if the shipment would be delayed. Memorising the address, she returned the file, fixed the lock she'd picked, and left.

The address proved to be a house on the edge of the city. It was deserted when Cass arrived, rosy-fingered dawn softly lighting the sky. She snuck in, planted microphone and camera bugs in every room, then left. She hooked up the bug on the front door to her earpiece, so she'd hear when it opened, and settled down, hidden from sight on the roof opposite. The past few days of long night vigils were catching up, and her eyelids slowly drifted shut.

She awoke some three hours later to the sound of the door banging open. Rolling onto her front, she peeked up, binoculars and camera ready. What she saw made her breath whoosh in and her jaw tighten, and start snapping photographic evidence.

A number of men were pulling girls from a van. Teenage girls, most looking about Tim and Stephanie's age, fourteen. Some looked a little older, closer to her own sixteen years, One or two appeared to be younger. Human trafficking, not arms, not drugs. She mentally cursed her previous decision. She should have gone into that first shipment.

Recriminations later. Action now. Photos connect men, girls and house. House bugged; cameras motion sensitive, microphones voice activating. She couldn't access feed remotely, except for the one on the door, but she could track what was active when. Those girls looked exhausted; they'd probably fall asleep within half an hour.

When they did so, she had special trackers she could hide in their hair.

In a dark, dingy, decidedly shady dive, Cass watched the girls on show, with painted faces and high heels, low necklines and high hemlines. After planting the so far undiscovered trackers, she'd returned to the low-class hotel room she'd rented, written up the night's work in the file she was preparing, and fallen to brooding. Smuggling procedure was to leave street-level operatives until the boss was collared. Kidnapping procedure said to get the civilian out asap. Eventually, she'd decided to keep a close eye on the girls, and try to act anonymously if they needed help but otherwise keep collecting the evidence and hope that she found the boss before the girls needed rescuing. So there she was, in a club in the bad part of Cebu, relying on bugs planted before opening hours to gather evidence.

The patrons were almost exclusively male, many tourists, and all with a certain lustful air to them. Watching the men, the final piece fell into place. A brothel.

She moved through the shadows, her black, disguised costume hiding her figure. Going to a more isolated position, she called the police, reported the forced prostitution of minors, and gave the address before hanging up without letting the man on the other end ask questions. She glued and pressed on her mask, found a hiding place where she could watch and listen, and waited.

Within fifteen minutes, the police arrived. Excellent response time. The lead cop swaggered in, his juniors flanking him protectively. He went straight to the bar, placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward to confront the owner. "I told you, my friend, about making your payments, eh? See, because you didn't, I have to follow up on the tips." He turned round to the other cops. "You know what to do, boys!" he ordered. The others started shifting the patrons out. "Gentlemen, please leave," the boss called out. "Your presence is neither needed nor wanted. Now," he turned to the scared teen girls, watching the proceedings and hardly hoping at all. Strange reaction, they were being saved…

"Okay, then, girlies," the boss-cop continued, grinning sadistically. "You're under arrest for prostitution."

**AN2: Regrettably, this is based on real life. Rest assured, measures are going to be taken within the realm of this fic. As usual, please tell me what you thought, and drop a PM/review if you have any questions. Thanks for reading, and feel free to consult my other fics.**

**Katara Harkness**


	12. Chapter 12: Justice

**AN: WARNING: THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH THE NASTIER SIDE OF HUMANITY. But if the traffic stats are any indication, that's not really putting you off. If you want a vague summary of what's happening during these chapters, please PM me. The delay in publication is due to the re-publishing of the (new and improved) Flashback chapter Bruce Be Bat in a separate story. There will be new flashbacks published frequently, so may I request you read that story? It can be accessed through my profile, the browser or by searching for Wayne's Boys Flashback. Now, on with the story.**

**Family Ties Chapter 12 Justice**

Cass forced herself to stay frozen in the shadows, horrified. Not even in Gotham, not even at the height of the Roman Empire and Loeb's stint as Commissioner- But then, Gotham never had much human trafficking.

So, what was her next move?

She could leave the girls in the cops' custody. They _could_ get the care they need, and be returned home.

That seemed unlikely. Action, then. Overt? Covert? Nothing too obvious, she was undercover. But she didn't have time…

The johns were all out. The policemen had started on the girls. Now.

Her belt was well-stocked, as always, neatly concealed beneath her jacket. Fingers expertly diving into the compartments, she removed and released a smoke bomb, activating her night-vision lenses and going back for a large bola. As anticipated, the grunts and owner stampeded for the door, the deviation from the expected routine too much for their limited skills, or paygrade. The bola whipped out, wrapped around the first two, and in bringing then to the floor, tripped the rest of the stampede. The bouncers and the boss-cop moved towards the middle of the room, stumbling over chairs.

Cass moved forward. Her left hand clutched a batarang, and a small, vicious part of her mind had come up with a special use for it. She resisted the temptation, (unless she had need of such an action, as unnecessary mutilation was generally frowned upon by most in her community, no matter how deserving the recipient). The bouncers first. Comparatively incompetent. A few nerve pinches would do the job. The men at the door were still down. They would be for at least ten seconds more. Good.

The smoke was clearing. Standing above the unconscious bouncers, Cass heard the boss-cop behind her. Her left hand lashed out backwards, the vicious desire triumphant as the batarang sank into the man's groin. Oops. Looks like it was necessary after all… A swift punch put him to sleep.

"Girls. Come with me. Be safe," she said in Filipino, binding the cops with their own cuffs.

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Cass' phone rang. Snatching it from next to her laptop, she checked the caller ID before answering. "My mentor."

"_Are we secure?"_ Bruce asked, picking up on the strange greeting.

She glanced round at the girls crammed into her room. "Audience. Not English speaking."

"_No names, then, partner,"_ Bruce replied. _"You didn't answer the apartment phone. Where are you right now?"_

"Um. Cebu. Philippines." She swiftly recounted the events that lead her case to the brothel, and what happened there. "Flattened cops. Bound them. Retrieved bugs. Brought girls to my hotel room. Wrote up file," she finished. "Not sure what now."

Bruce didn't answer for a moment. _"I'm assuming you have evidence against the brothel operators and the cops. Here, you'd get the evidence to the courts and the girls to witness protection. But we don't have anyone there, day or night…"_ His voice tailed off, clearly trying to think of someone outside Wayne Enterprises or Batman Incorporated. _"There's a number of non-government organisations working to counter human trafficking in that area. Contact one of them. Duplicate and share your evidence."_

"Yes, sir," Cass replied, opening her computer and starting a search. "Why you call me?"

Bruce was choosing his words carefully. _"A certain man in a certain institute to whom you are related arranged his violent release a few hours ago. It is thought he is after the One who is All."_

Translation: "Cain broke out. He's after you. Be careful."

"Understood. I intend to return as planned. Goodbye, mentor."

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Within two hours, Cass had set up a meeting with a representative of International Justice Mission. The name had rather appealed to her, sitting on the list of licenced NGOs. Even though she'd been deliberately vague, merely saying she had evidence of dealings that fell within their sphere of activity, the man on the phone had agreed to send someone (a woman, Cass' request) to meet her at a secluded little café.

The sky was already beginning to darken. Hopefully the woman wouldn't be scared.

As Cass sipped the tea she'd ordered, she watched the door, occasionally flicking her glance in other directions. At the prescribed time, a woman with dark hair but non-oriental skin and eyes entered. Her clothes said 'neat tourist', but her body language gave other tells. Professional, nervous, uncertain. As she looked around, Cass cleared her throat, raised a finger and beckoned. "IJM?" she asked quietly as the stranger approached.

"Yes. How did you know?" Cass smiled mysteriously and gestured at the seat opposite.

A waitress appeared. "Your orders?"

"Another chai tea. Something for my friend. On my bill," Cass said.

The other lady, stammering slightly, ordered black coffee, and waited until the waitress left. "I'm guessing you're our mystery caller?" she asked. Cass nodded. "I'm Audrey Martin. How can I help you, Miss…?"

"Clara." Cass gave a name she'd used before, and had cards for. "I can help you."

"Really? What do you have?" Cass picked up the computer next to her and opened it, but before she could pull up the file, the waitress returned with the drinks. Putting down enough money to cover the drinks as well as a generous tip, she waited until they were once more alone before playing the video file.

The events of the previous evening started to play out, from shortly before the police arrived until the smoke bomb, where she stopped the playback. Audrey sighed, unwilling to look at the teen. "We've seen that happen before, I'm afraid," she said. Cass nodded sadly; she'd expected that. "Do you know where the girls are now?"

Cass held herself still; the body language equivalent of refusing to reply. Saying nothing, she resumed the video, letting the fight play out. Audrey slowly looked up to the girl opposite. Cass didn't meet her eyes.

"You know, I'm from Metropolis," Audrey said slowly. "I'm guessing you're one of Batman's lot, and your name isn't Clara."

Cass inclined her head. "Not permanently assigned. Tracking smugglers…"

"Then you found out what happens in these parts." Cass nodded. "Look, I don't know how you usually do things, but that film? We've never got anything like it. We _need_ it. So, please, can I have a copy?" Audrey's eyes were pleading.

Cass set a flash drive on the table, and pushed it over. "Partial case file. Link between brothel and shipper. Five years of manifests. The video. Other evidence." As the older woman reached for the computer chip, she tapped the laptop. "The video. How important?"

"Short term, it's possibly the best evidence we could have against the policemen, and pretty good against the pimps to. But you know what else? If it got leaked to the UN and the world media? It could make our job a lot easier."

She nodded, flicking one of her 'Clara Kane' cards over the table. "I can do that. If you need more, contact me." The number was a private line her sources had, not the personal line her family had. The email address was just one more hidden in a vast public access system.

"Thank you," Audrey said, tucking away the drive and card. "Now please, can you take me to the girls?"

**AN2: IJM is a real NGO working in the Philippines; one of several. If you want to know more, their website can be easily reached through Google. As always, reviews very much appreciated. Any questions, PM or review. Writers run on feedback.**

**Katara**

**PS. To Guest, who asked about my picture. I've updated my profile to explain about it. Thanks for asking, though.**


	13. Chapter 13: Follow-Up

**Family Ties Chapter 13 Follow Up**

Clark Kent, called by some Kal-El of Krypton and most widely known as Superman, was ever so slightly perturbed. His Justice League partner _(and, technically, ultimate boss)_ Batman _(Bruce Wayne)_ had left him a message saying there was a really important story he had to cover, and there would be details at the office. But the phrasing wasn't Bruce's normal style- although who else would have access to his JLA comm channel? _(His children…)_ So he'd gone on a quick flight, hovered outside Gotham, and turned his super-senses on Wayne Manor. He quickly picked out the occupants, either sleeping or starting to rise. All seemed well, down to the blocked view of the cave. Shrugging, he'd returned home. Surely it would become clear later.

All that in mind, it wasn't a surprise to be pulled into the editor's office. Perry White's words were.

"Lane, Arkham trouble last night. I want the scoop on what happened by evening edition. Also, Kent, Wayne's sent us a story in the Philippines. He wants you to cover it, and he's even sent his jet to get you there. Seventeen hour journey, so get going."

Perry shoved a file into his hands and pointed him out the door.

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"_H'lo, Wayne Manor."_

Clark sighed in relief; he'd feared he wouldn't get through. "Dick? It's Clark."

"_Oh. Hey."_ The acrobat sounded still half asleep, even at ten in the morning. _"We had pretty long night. Arkham break-out, y'know. Guess you want the scoop?"_

Clark frowned. "No, Lois has the Arkham story. I've been sent to the Philippines."

"_You have? What's happening there?"_

"According to the video, child prostitution and police corruption."

"_Nasty. Hang on, what video's that?" _

Clark paused. "You don't know? I was told it came from Bruce."

"_Not a clue. Like I said, we've had Arkham trouble all night. You sure it's from Bruce?"_

"Perry said the story was from him, as is the loan of a jet, and I got a message on my comm with his tag."

"_I don't know. Don't see when Bruce could have got anything like that, he hasn't been out of Gotham for months, not sure who else it could have been." _There was a pensive pause, and then, _"Bruce!"_

Clark extended his hearing, but quickly remembered that the phone's reception wouldn't pick up the reply. Instead, he focused on Gotham, honing in and bypassing the phone. _"- is it, Dick?"_ he heard.

"_Clark's on the phone. Asking about a story in the Philippines we have an interest in?"_

"_There's a case being dealt with. You'll hear more later."_

"_Yeah, but it's Clark asking."_

"_He's meant to be an investigative reporter. He should be able to work it out without running to a detective to do his job for him."_

Dick chuckled. _"You get all that?"_

"Yes, I heard. He sounds especially grumpy this morning."

"_Long night. You know how it is, with Arkham trouble."_

"How was the break-out?"

"_Relatively light. Thirteen Penitentiaries, Joker, Harley, Ivy, Riddler, Cluemaster, Croc, Vic, Cain. Stephanie got fear gassed pretty bad and Two-Face gashed Jason, but other than that, fine."_

"I'd say good, but that's not really appropriate. Mind if I pass it on?"

"_Nah, Lois knows what to keep out of the article. Just send a message when you've worked out your story."_

"I will. Goodbye, Dick."

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There were advantages to private jets. For example, there were no fellow journalists to stop him from slipping out. In the fifteen hours since calling Dick, Clark had only spent five on the jet, three of which he was asleep and the other two getting some background and setting up a meeting with a recommended contact named Audrey Martin. The rest of the time, he'd attended a (Bat-free) JLA meeting to discuss a few remaining issues from the latest alien invasion, put out a fire in downtown Metropolis, helped Wonder Woman in a skirmish with Cheetah, answered a plea from a relief aid group in Uganda to counter a cholera epidemic by drilling a well and flying in five hundred doses of sugar-salt replacement medicine, and then taken Lois out for dinner before she left Gotham after filing the story over the internet.

He'd also tracked down Tim after school, who proved to also be oblivious to the story. At least he got a look at Stephanie and Jason. They both seemed to be recovering nicely.

While the story itself seemed to be relatively normal, the unprintable behind-the-scenes activity was some of the strangest he'd seen since Jason Todd-Wayne had supposedly run away.

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Cass was getting nervous. Ms Martin had called, saying there was a very respectable journalist interested. She'd wanted to know if Cass had arranged it, and if she wanted to talk to him. Cass danced around the first, but accepted the second. Of course she'd arranged it, and Clark/Superman needed to know what he could and could not say. This was the quickest way to achieve this, even if she had to speak quieter than the human ear could detect.

Besides, as nominal leader-slash-spokesman of the Justice League, he should probably be apprised of the situation. The chances of Bruce bringing up the matter were small enough to be negligible.

Which meant that, at four in the afternoon, way too early, she was hanging around the outside of International Justice Mission's office, eavesdropping on Clark and Audrey's meeting as a prelude to sneaking in for her own.

It went very neatly, very professionally. Audrey explained that "an anonymous source" had handed over a computer file containing shipping manifests leading to a safe house in the suburbs, surveillance photos of a number of teenage girls arriving at the house, and finally the controversial footage that had landed in the _Daily Planet_'s inbox. She detailed how she'd then been able to take the girls to their clinic, and listed ages and hometowns for all nine. Clark asked how she'd got custody of the girls; Audrey said that her source "removed them from police custody". When she was asked if she condoned the action, she gave what Cass knew would be considered a great quote: "Look, what happened there that night? It's _not that unusual_. You get it? All too often, we've seen girls who have been sexually abused while in police custody. There have even been cases of the girls being sold back to the brothel owners and traffickers. Am I glad the police were assaulted? Not especially. Am I glad the girls are in our care, not theirs? You bet."

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Clark couldn't really respond to that. Instead, he moved on to ask about potential court cases. He felt slightly dazed with heart-sickness at the barbarity of humanity, going through the questions and asking to interview the victims.

He spoke to three of them, all with the same story. They'd been promised a better life in Japan, Europe, America. Instead, the found themselves in the sex trade. It was only thanks to "the Dark Angel" that they weren't raped.

While there were other girls, other incidents, other cases, Clark knew that it would be more hard-hitting to give extreme detail of the one case, and then conclude that it was, comparatively speaking, a mild case. Adding the minutiae of other cases would cloud the story, and the saying "One hundred deaths is a tragedy, one thousand a statistic" applied to matters other than death. Better to get the reader's sympathies firmly on his side, with this specific incident, than say there were more. Charity advertisements worked on the same principal. The one story would galvanise the reader to sponsor NGOs and get the wheels of politics moving.

After that, Audrey took him back to her office to meet her source, the "Dark Angel".

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Cass had followed Clark, listening to his interviews. It seemed to be fairly comprehensive. But he didn't know it was her…did he?

He did. The lack of genuine surprise showed in the set of his shoulders. Stupid X-ray vision. No wonder the cave was lead coated.

He held off his questions until Audrey left and his glowing eyes checked the room over. "We're secure, Cass," he murmured. "Tell me what you want."

"A tell-all," she said frankly. "What happened. How often. Let the world know."

"Do you want the Justice League involved?"

She bit her lip. "Maybe. I don't know," she admitted. "B Inc operative ideal, but I don't know. Talk to Bruce?"

"Of course. He won't be mad at you for lending me the jet?"

Cass smirked. "He not use it. Not while Joker loose in Gotham. I take responsibility."

"Fine. Two things. One, call Dick. I think he's curious. Second, I need a little more information for the article. No names, obviously."

"Can't say everything. Still trying to get the bosses."

"Just a quick interview."

Cass smiled. She still had a lot to do before going home in two days, but for now, she was confident. Bruce wouldn't have done this, but it was the right thing for the circumstances.

**AN: You may have noticed this chapter has a special guest. If not...you _did_ read it, didn't you? Anyway, there will be other, non-Bat guys popping in from time to time. I just hope I got him right.**

**Next week, I intend to update Flashback. According to the stats, there are fifty-one followers of this story who have yet to discover Flashback. Might I humbly suggest you go have a look at it? Next chapter will be all-new, I promise. And thanks to PrincessofBadLuck, ProtectorKorii, Stubbross and andrewjeeves who have generously followed both. Cheers, guys.**

**As usual, I have a couple of slightly off-beat things knocking around on my page. Go have a look, please, feel free. It's nice to see what opinions my late-night ramblings garner.**

**And as usual, please review and tell me what you thought. Any questions, drop a PM or a review. Other than that, enjoy your day.**

**Katara Harkness**


	14. Chapter 14: A Plant's Life

**Family Ties Chapter 14 A Plant's Life**

Robinson Park was quiet. Nightwing refused to think 'too quiet', which was usually a precursor to a Joker attack. But…abnormally quiet. There was no rustling from birds or the small animals that made the park their home; as though they were no longer welcome. A sure-fire sign of Poison Ivy's presence, if the dense walls of trees and bushes cutting off the north-west quarter weren't enough. Red Robin and Spoiler had found the barrier last night- Robinson was one of the first places to look when Ivy busted out- and they were monitoring it for activity. Which led to a certain former Boy Wonder sitting in a tree since sundown.

'_Four hours I've been here,'_ he grumbled to himself. _'Switch off at midnight. Just two more hours…'_ He briefly entertained himself by listening in on the comms. Batman had dragged Red Hood and Robin down into the sewers to help search for Croc, and Batgirl, Spoiler and Red Robin were patrolling in search of the other escapees. Most of the comm traffic consisted of the ones below ground checking off each tunnel.

His musings turned elsewhere. Someone (*cough* Kal-El *cough*) had left a copy of the morning's _Daily Planet_ on the dining room table before breakfast. Reading between the lines (where someone had helpfully been writing in blue), it was fairly easy to see what Cass had been up to. Just as well; when she'd called at noon, she'd been unusually evasive. Sounded like she hadn't asked Bruce before getting Clark involved.

Bruce had seemed grumpier than usual that morning…Oh well.

Feeling his limbs starting to cramp, again, Nightwing glanced down, judging the distance between his branch and the boughs beneath. Then he hooked his knees around the branch and fell backwards. The rough bark scraped against his legs in exactly the same way his frequently-polished trapeze didn't. He caught a lower branch, wound his way among the tree limbs, and settled into a new perch.

Just in time to see a fissure appearing in the artificial hedgerow.

He leaned forward, craning his neck to peer into the gloom. He touched his earpiece, cutting across Spoiler's report of a breaking-and-entering at a jewellers'. "Ivy's moving. Can't see what she's up to. Shall I investigate?"

"_Proceed with caution,"_ Batman instructed. _"Red Robin, Batgirl, Spoiler, back him up."_ A trio of affirmatives came in response.

Nightwing dropped down from the tree. He gazed into the gloom within the plant enclosure, and flicked on the night vision lenses in his mask. Everything turned green, which wasn't much help; the dark green blobs were now slightly lighter green blobs. Grimacing, he switched off the lenses and set his flashlight to mid-power instead.

He stepped into the over-grown undergrowth. About five feet in, his foot caught on something. He looked down, seeing a thin vine coiling around his left ankle. He tugged gently, and it tightened. Then another latched around his right wrist, jerking it and making his flashlight fall. He held still. Batman would charge through, angering Ivy but showing he meant business. Red Robin preferred not to make any aggressive move until he'd given her a chance to surrender.

Nightwing snorted. _He_ wasn't going to use brute force to make his way forward, damaging the plants and angering their protector, or wait for the obsessive plant-o-phile to come see what was caught in her mousetrap. He reached up and gently prised the vine away from his arm, unwrapping it as carefully as he could. Then he crouched, retrieved his flashlight and freed his ankle.

He rose and kept going, ducking and weaving. After about 75 metres, he made it through to a vast moonlit clearing, full of flowers and shrubs. He tucked away the flashlight ,and stepped out.

The tree next to him seemed to twist, a branch whipping around at chest height, Nightwing stepped back, banging into a branch that had appeared behind him as the first stopped mere inches from where he had been. Before he could duck and move on, the vines returned, covering and restraining his arms and legs. As he struggled, more wrapped around his waist, then his head. He felt thorns press into his neck not yet breaking skin and, recognizing the threat, held still.

The branches moved aside, opening a way forward. The vines started pulling, new ones bringing him forward as old ones released and fell away. _'Like pass-the-parcel,'_ he thought, wincing as a new thorn scraped uncomfortably close to his jugular. _'Wonder what happens when the music stops…'_ "I can walk, you know," he said aloud. No response from the plants, obviously.

Finally, the plants stopped pulling. Nightwing started wriggling, just trying to get more comfortable, when he was yanked sideways and slammed into a tree, his hands drawn well away from his waist, and belt. "What was that for?" he grumbled.

"We don't want you absconding, now, do we?" came a sultry female voice. Poison Ivy emerged from her plant grotto, hips swaying provocatively.

"Hey, Pam." The lady winced at her old name. "Sorry. Ivy."

"Nightwing," she replied, pacing and surveying her captive. "Could be worse…" she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Robin's sense of aesthetics is somewhat lacking. But I just love what you've done with the place."

"Really?" She seemed proud and amused in equal measure.

"Oh yeah." Bit of flattery never hurt. "Like that bit over there." He tried to point, but couldn't move his arm and nodded in the vague direction. "The one with the pale pink roses and bright yellow crocuses. Beautiful. I mean, neither should be in full bloom in September, but still. Gorgeous." He sighed theatrically. "Be a pity to burn it. But, you know, if you insist on putting up a fight…"

Ivy preened a bit before responding, "You asking me to surrender? Oh, I don't know. I really don't."

He felt the vines tightening, thorns all over trying to pierce his skin. The ones on his neck sank in deep, and a few more pricks registered at weak points in his suit. Everything began to swim, and then there was a beautiful girl kissing his cheek.

"Your hair's really nice," he slurred. "I mean, really, really pretty, An' the way the moon's shining off it just so, it's so lovely."

"You really think I'm lovely?" the girl said. "Then will you tell me something?"

Anything for the lady. "Sure!"

"Where is Batman's secret hideout?"

His face fell. Pretty girl asked, he should answer the pretty girl. But he couldn't tell her that, could he? Her fingers ran through his hair, she was waiting…

A dark figure dropped onto her. Woah, another, even prettier girl! Her hair was a finer shade of red, her clothing black and highlighting each curve. What was she called again? He should know, he knew this gorgeous example of womanhood. Something to do with a bat…

"Hands off my boyfriend," she growled.

**AN: So, welcome back to present-day Gotham. Hope you enjoyed the time away from the crazies with Cass' adventures in the Philippines and the re-introduction of Flashback. Flashback will continue to be published at regular intervals until further notice. As before, I will tell you, my loyal readers, which I'm publishing a week in advance. On that note, we will stay here in Family Ties for the next update or two.**

**In other news, starting today, I will be publishing a new cross-over, where Tim gets stranded in the universe of the Avengers film/movie. It's set before (or possibly AU from) Iron Man 3, so don't let that film put you off. Also, it's using the immediately pre-Flashpoint DCU, not my WB-Universe, so it's an older Red Robin (with the New 52 costume, though, 'cause it's more awesome). I know crossovers tend to get limited exposure, but I will be very grateful if you would check it out. The first chapter should be up within an hour of this chapter, and I intend to update it every week. So please go check it out.**

**You can probably guess what happens next: Please leave a review to tell me what you thought, and if you have questions about anything, drop me a PM or leave me a review. Reviews make author happy; happy author write more stuff for you. Also, if you want a brief summary of the last three chapters without the nasty-side-of-human-nature so obvious, just ask me.**

**Thanks for reading.**

**Katara**


	15. Chapter 15: Hell Hath No Fury

**Family Ties Chapter 15: Hell Hath No Fury**

Batgirl shook her head slightly. "Look, I only stopped as a courtesy," she said, irritated at the two…newbies.

"Yeah, thanks, but we're doing just fine," replied Batwoman, folding her arms.

Her partner snorted from the shadows. "Why did you think we needed your 'courtesy'?" Question asked.

"Information," Batgirl replied, looking Question straight in the eye…spaces. "That's what you seek, is it not?"

"I reckon we've got it all," Batwoman replied. "About the break-out?"

"Names and numbers," Question said. "Cain arranged it. Deadshot returning to Gotham."

"You know what Cain's after?"

They glanced at each other. Question shrugged. "Some riddle. Can't be too hard to work out."

"It's not a riddle," Batgirl said. "It's a name. For Black Bat."

"Black Bat? Heard she isn't even in the country," Batwoman commented.

"She will be tomorrow," Batgirl replied. "If you keep out of Cain's way, he'll probably leave you be."

"Telling us what to do?" Question sneered.

"Call it friendly advice. If you get in his way, you will come out worse. Most of us would." The two older, less experienced crime fighters didn't respond. Batgirl sighed. "The offer's still open, if you want a more permanent association."

"And be under Batman's control? No thanks," dismissed Question. Batwoman just looked thoughtful.

Batgirl pressed on. "I wouldn't call it control. He trains us, equips us, gives us missions within our abilities, assigns us back-up when we need it. In exchange, we stay in contact while on patrol, get reassigned if necessary, and occasionally pulled from the field if we're out of our depth or needed for mission control. And of course, there's all the information we have access to."

She was going to press on (because Batman _did_ like a level of control over Gotham vigilantes) when her earpiece buzzed. Someone had gone on all channels. She touched it, listening as Nightwing alerted them to Ivy's activity, and Batman ordered her, Red Robin and Spoiler to join him. "On it," she said, then flicked it off. She looked back at Batwoman and Question. "Think about it. Working with us could save a life one day. Maybe yours." She pulled out her grapple, preparing to leave, when Batwoman spoke up.

"If we did join up, you'd want our identities, right?"

Batgirl smiled. "How do you know we don't already have them?" she said mysteriously, before jumping and swinging off towards the action.

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Red Robin heard a soft patter to his left. Without stopping, he glanced over, a smile gracing his lips when he saw Spoiler shadowing him. They ran parallel courses, swinging and jumping from roof to roof until they reached the park.

Batgirl was just ahead of them, moving through the trees towards Ivy's clearing. Red Robin caught sight of Nightwing tied to a tree, a smear of lipstick on his face and Ivy leaning on him, before Batgirl jumped, literally on top of her.

"Hands off my boyfriend," she snarled, before a branch whacked into her, knocking her down. Both women struggled to their feet, and Batgirl sucker-punched Ivy, then kicked her in the face. A stinging nettle behind her grew five feet tall, smacking into her jaw. "Keep your lousy plants out of it, you floozy!" Batgirl screeched.

Red Robin turned to Spoiler, who seemed to be in shock. Not surprising; gentle, well-mannered Babs Gordon was fighting like an alley cat and screaming like a fish wife. "Uh, how about we take out the plants and leave Batgirl the lady?" Spoiler nodded. He snapped out his staff to half-length, grasped a nice, sharp batarang in his other hand, and entered the fray.

The next few minutes were nothing but focus; focus on beating back the plants, cutting them down, and not getting hit by flying thorns. Eventually, the leaves stopped flying. Ivy was lying on her stomach, pinned down with Batgirl kneeling on her back, one hand twisted in Ivy's hair and repeatedly slamming her face into the ground. "I think she's unconscious," Spoiler squeaked.

Batgirl released her opponent, stood up, and snatched Red Robin's (now slightly blunter) batarang without a word. She slashed through the vines holding Nightwing, freeing him. He stumbled forward, before righting himself, just in time to be slapped across the face by his still irate girlfriend. "And _what_ do _you_ have to say for yourself?" she demanded.

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

"_That's what you always say!_" she growled, hands on her hips.

"Can't think of anything else," he slurred, swaying on his feet. "You're just that gorgeous…"

Red Robin watched, incredulous. Then, he tapped his earpiece. "Hey, Baby Bird. Remember what you said about our dear eldest at lunch yesterday? Starting to think you had a point…"

Spoiler snorted with laughter, but it was Red Hood who replied. _"Excellent. What's he done now?"_

"He's acting kinda drunk…"

At that moment, Nightwing stumbled and fell over, half-dragging Batgirl down with him. After a moment, she looked back at her fellows. "He's going green," she told them.

They hurried over. Batgirl was already preparing the all-purpose anti-toxin sedative, and sunk the needle into his neck. Red Robin spied a thorned vine with specks of blood on it. He examined it carefully; when he snapped a thorn, it oozed a viscous sap. He quickly opened a comm channel. "Red Robin to base. A, can you remote pilot the Batmobile to Robinson Park? Nightwing's drugged up on one of Ivy's concoctions." He lowered his voice. "Find some excuse to screen Batgirl, too; she's a bit over-aggressive."

"_Of course, Master Tim,"_ Alfred replied.

Soon, the big black car was pulling up by the gates. Between them, they manipulated the semi-conscious acrobat into the passenger seat. Batgirl slid behind the wheel, samples from the vine secured, and drove off.

Red Robin and Spoiler went back to check on Ivy. Still unconscious, still bound, nose still broken, bump on her forehead _still_ growing. Red Robin thought they'd forgotten something, but what was it?

"So," Spoiler said brightly. "Are we waiting for the cops, or do we drag her back to Arkham ourselves?"

**AN: One down, seven to go. My, those Bats are doing well, aren't they? Batwoman and Question may (or may not) be popping up again now and again. In the meantime, please leave a review. Pretty please? Any questions about anything I've written, feel free to ask in a review or a PM.**

**Also, Little Bird's Vengeance is being updated today. I know a number of you have shown your appreciation for it; maybe those lovely readers who haven't given it a go yet could have a look? Or indeed look at any of my other works; they're almost all Bat-fics. In similar news, I _do_ intend to continue Black and Red. It's just taking time. Sorry. I'll let all you wonderful people know when it's ready.**

**To quote the 60s TV series: "Tune in next week, same Bat-time (more or less), same Bat-channel (well, website)." See ya then.**

**Katara**


	16. Chapter 16:Mild Dose of Revenge-Plotting

**Family Ties Chapter 16 Mild Dose of Revenge-Plotting**

Dick opened his eyes, and quickly closed them again. The light streaming into the room felt like daggers on his retinas, contributing to his pounding headache. "Ow, my head," he moaned, before realising just how cliché that was. He tried to think back and deduce what had caused his current state. "Roy, did you get me drunk again?"

"No," came an amused, feminine voice. He cracked open one eye, focusing blearily until he could see the Asian girl next to him.

"Cass?" he said. "Thought you weren't getting back 'til lunchtime."

"That was two hours ago," she told him.

"Oh." His stomach grumbled, confirming it. "What happened last night?"

"Ivy drug you," she said simply. "This nice. Me home, not fear for ribs." She grinned cheekily. "I tell Alfred you awake now."

By the time she returned, followed by not only Alfred, but also the boys, Steph and Babs, Dick had managed to lever himself into a sitting position and retrieve his aspirin from the cabinet next to the bed. Alfred set on his lap a tray with soup, a sandwich and a large glass of something muddy-looking. "Drink your medicine first," Alfred told him.

"What is it?" Dick asked, glaring suspiciously at the glass.

"It'll suck the toxin from your blood. We couldn't find the specific antidote, so it's this or we stick you full of needles, flood your system with general antitoxins, and hope." Tim told him helpfully. "It got us worried."

Dick gulped the medicine, and eyeballed his other brothers. "You all came to check on me?"

Damian 'tt'-ed and Jason smirked. "We just came to make fun of you again."

"Again? Just what happened last night?"

"What do you remember?" Bruce had come in without them noticing. He pulled out the desk chair and sat down next to the bed.

Dick finished the drink, set aside the glass and picked up the soup spoon. "After I called in, I went into the grove. Couple of vines tried tangling me. Got them off, didn't break them. Then I got to this clearing, and some thorny vines kinda tied me to a tree." He ducked his head sheepishly. Bruce just nodded; not the first time, probably not the last time, Ivy managed to tie one of them up. "Anyway," Dick continued, "I tried the usual tactics, bit of flattery, spare-the-plants-if-you-surrender, you know. Then it gets a little hazy. Guess that was when I got drugged. Er, she suddenly seemed really pretty."

"Was she indeed?" Babs muttered jealously.

Dick flushed and continued. "-And I had to do whatever she said, but then there was an even more beautiful girl, and I think she slapped me across the face. Not sure. It's all a bit of a mess."

"At least you correctly identified your girlfriend as prettier than Ivy," Tim said cheerfully, sitting at the foot of the bed. Noticing Steph glaring at him, he continued extravagantly. "Of course, as is truly said, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder', and so, I fear I must reject all claims of being the most gorgeous example of the female of the species, save that of the fair and lovely Miss Brown."

Steph threw herself into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck possessively, and looked around haughtily, as though to say _'__**That**__ is how to compliment your girl'_. Dick started feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Babs opened her mouth to say something, her face showing signs of an imminent temper tantrum, and-

"As refreshing as it is to hear you getting along," Bruce interjected dryly, "What was Ivy after?"

"Um, she asked me something," Dick answered, frowning. "I remember feeling like I had to answer to please her, but the answer wasn't something I could tell her. She stopped asking before I could decide."

"What was the question?" Bruce asked.

"'Nightwing, Nightwing, tied to a tree, who's the fairest girl you see?'" Jason said under his breath, sniggering. He received several dirty looks, and was promptly ignored.

"I'm trying to remember," Dick moaned, staring at the remnants of his meal.

"Too busy ogling, were you?" Babs grumbled. Dick looked at her in confusion, then glanced at all the others one at a time.

"Too little progesterone," Tim mouthed.

Dick's eyes widened, and he quickly turned back to the memories. Anything other than pregnancy-stimulating hormones. "Something about a base? Yeah, that's it. She was asking me where our secret base is."

"Why would Ivy want to know that?" Damian asked.

"We'll ask her tonight," Bruce said. He put a hand on his eldest's shoulder as he rose, "Leslie said to take it easy for the rest of the weekend. She'll check up on you tomorrow evening to see if you're well enough for classes on Monday."

"Sure." While bed rest was never an attractive prospect, it was only to be expected. Dick sighed, put his tray on the bedside table, and felt his girlfriend squirm into his arms.

"I hear comm traffic from last night," Cass said unexpectedly, taking the just-vacated seat. They all turned to look at her, Bruce pausing in the doorway. "Was wondering, what Damian say about Dick?"

"Oh, that." The younger three boys all started smirking, and Steph giggled. "You see-" Tim launched into a recounting of the conversation that left the girls laughing like there was no tomorrow, and Dick flushed with embarrassment.

"Definitely worth waiting for, eh, Dami?" Jason said, elbowing his grinning kid brother.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Tim, exactly what was the other boy saying about Jason?" he asked, the steely tone of his voice suggesting an imminent over-protective rage.

"The usual stuff," Tim said quickly. "It was Darren Swift. Dad runs Swift Transport, relatively old-money family. Think they're further up the social ladder than they really are, look down on the 'common folk'." He paused. "Now I think about it, I think they were good customers of my parents'…other business."

Dick jerked in surprise. Tim customarily avoided all mention of the smuggling business his parents had engaged in, until it left Janet dead, Jack crippled and in prison, and their son taken in by godfather Bruce. "So he's one of those guys who'll be practically running the place in twenty odd years? He'll have to be taken down a notch or two."

"You know, I was thinking, maybe Selina should make a house call," said Tim, slyly. "Take the family silver, and all those things they ought not have. Then Matches Malone sets up an auction. Jason, being a street boy with connections, hears about it and, in a spirit of reconciliation, passes on the information to his classmate."

"Then he owes Jason. Good," Bruce said.

"Better." Tim squirmed in Steph's embrace, shifting her weight off his neck. "Jason casually tells his sister, brothers and their girlfriends over dinner. Then Babs, unaware that the Swifts might have had…sensitive items stolen, has no qualms with telling her father there's a sale of stolen objects. Gordon arranges a raid. If the Swifts are smart, they'll deny all knowledge of the artefacts."

"Tim, that is brilliant," Dick praised. "Perfect revenge. Teaches 'em to respect us, and not to buy smuggled artefacts."

"Start working on the logistics," Bruce said. "It _is_ brilliant. But we'll leave it a few weeks. Deflect suspicion. Besides," he grimaced. "We're busy right now."

**AN: Welcome back to fluff-central. For those of you who like it when it's nice and fluffy, there will be further opportunities for group hugs. For those who like the action, well, we have to give them a reason for all the caring-ness, don't we? In other words, yes, I _am_ going to beat up someone else soon-ish. As it appears to be traditional to offer imaginary baked goods to the winner of a plot-based guessing game, virtual cookies to anyone who guesses who ends up in the med-bay next. You have one week; please enter by leaving your guess in a review, or (if you want an anonymous vote) PM-ing me. And, what the h*ll, tell me what you thought of the chapter while you're at it. Any questions, PM or review.**

**Once again, Little Bird's Vengeance is being updated today. Thank you to those who've gone over to it, and my other works; if you haven't, why not give it a go? **

**Be back next week with more Gotham fun. See you soon.**

**Katara**


	17. Chapter 17: A Touch of Speed

**Family Ties Chapter 17 A Touch of Speed**

Dick lounged in the chair at the Bat-computer, one leg hanging over the arm while he idly flicked through an old cold case and kept an eye on the trackers and an ear on the comm traffic on the center screen. Batman, Red Hood and Robin were still down in the sewers, and a large planning map was slowly getting sections marked off. Tim had suggested just permanently seeding the tunnels with motion sensors, but they didn't have anywhere near enough, not ones with the special attachment so they could withstand the floods. Another project for when they were less busy.

Another screen was running through Tim and Jason's pet revenge project, searching through over a hundred files of smuggled and sold items to find which had ended up in the Swift household. The files had been on the system for ages- Tim had uploaded them when he found the discs after his father's murder. But they'd never been used. Tim couldn't bear to look through them, and no-one else found the time. On the other hand, this was the first time they'd found a use for them.

Manipulating Bruce's peers could be so much fun.

The screen blipped, finding a ninth match. It was only halfway through, too. Boy, these guys were rich (relatively speaking)- the average price was nearly twenty thousand dollars. All that money, wasted because the kid felt self-righteous and made fun of the wrong guy, and so offended the people who could _and would_ use any and all dirt against him.

The Wayne family protects its own.

Forcing himself to focus on his own work, he turned back to the cold case. A breaking-and-entering in a prestigious antiques boutique, leaving the owner dead. An inferior batch of Joker venom had been used, but it wasn't the Clown Prince's style. More suggestive, all that was stolen was a golden figurine of the Egyptian cat-goddess Bast. That would indicate Catwoman, but leaving bodies wasn't _her_ style either. Still, he'd ask her. She may well have heard of it at least.

The external comm buzzed. "_Watchtower to Batcave, come in._"

Dick hit the reply button. "Batcave, Nightwing here. What's up, Superman?"

Another voice cut across the Kryptonian. "_Hey, you're there? Can I deliver in person and, you know, hang out?_"

Dick rolled his eyes. The youngest of the Flashes, once the first Kid Flash, had been his friend for years, and relished every opportunity to see the inside of the Batcave. "Come on, mate, you know the Bat's rules about metas in Gotham…"

"_I'll be good, I promise. I won't leave the cave. Not unless he says so._"

'_It would be nice to see Wally again,'_ Dick thought. "Fine," he said aloud. "But you take the flak if he doesn't like it."

"No worries," said the voice from behind him. He turned around to see the Scarlet Speedster nonchalantly leaning against a display case with half a dozen trick umbrellas. He closed the comm channel on Superman's gentle chuckling, and turned back to his friend. "You're not suited up," Flash noted. "And you're not on the streets. Why are you not on the streets?"

"Doc's orders," Dick replied. "Got poisoned two nights ago. So, you know. Benched."

"Sucks," Flash agreed. "Who got you?"

"Ivy."

He whistled. "Well, at least it was the pretty one."

Dick groaned. "Please don't say that around Batgirl."

"Oh? There a story behind that?"

Dick spun around, trying to look studious- and to hide the rising colour in his cheeks. "Leave it," he growled.

"C'mon, you can tell you old pal." He zoomed around in front of the computer. "Dare ya."

"Wally. You are a married man. Aren't you meant to be mature?" He changed track. "What was it you came to say, anyway?"

"Oh, yeah!" Once again, the ultra-distractibility of speedsters was coming in handy. "Well, you know how we have programs to flag any unusual police reports?"

"Yeah…"

"We got one of those, and Supes said we should tell Bats, and he'd probably take it off our hands, and gotta say, don't envy you-"

"Wally-"

"It's a fairly nasty case, really Gotham-y-"

"The point-"

They were both interrupted by a gruff voice coming over the comm. "_Croc spotted. Nightwing, send backup,_" Batman ordered.

Dick turned his attention back to the screens "Red Hood, Robin, RV with him." He bit his lip, looking at the girls' and Red Robin's markers. Then his gaze slid to Flash. "B, the others are too far, but I can lend you a speedster." He started marking in the quickest route from the cave to Batman on screen.

"_Which one?_" Batman replied.

"Flash three."

There was the sound of splashing, and something hitting the sewer wall. "_Fine,_" Batman grunted.

Dick turned to Flash. "Follow the yellow line," he said. Flash nodded and vanished.

He focused on the sounds from the comms, idly noting Batgirl finishing a call to get the cops to pick up Croc from the nearest sewer exit. From underground, he heard splashes, thuds, a few gunshots. Then Batman, tersely ordering, "_Get Robin back to the cave now._"

He got up and spun around as Flash reappeared, carrying his youngest brother. He pulled them into the Med Bay, quickly taking stock. Robin was breathing shakily, water trickling from his mouth. He was pale and unmoving. "Run upstairs and call Alfred," Dick commanded, turning his brother onto his stomach and hitting between his shoulder blades to get the dirty sewer water out of his lungs. Robin coughed and started vomiting.

Alfred appeared and took over, pulling off Damian's costume and assessing the injury. "The x-ray, Master Dick," he instructed. Dick nodded, hurrying over to the machine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flash standing at a loss, until Alfred told him to help.

The report would wait. Damian couldn't.

**AN: Sorry this is a little late. In response to the challenge I set last week, we had two entries. READINGhearts17 went for Jason, and Glimare guessed Tim. Virtual doughnuts to both, but as you can see, it was Damian. Now, I'm once again offering you some virtual cookies. The task is to guess what the report is about. I'm giving you three options. A) Joker and Harley. B) the assassins. C) a serial murderer with some new twist. Or you can suggest something else weird and wonderful.**

**Other news, I'm starting to continue Black and Red. Next week I will update it instead of Little Bird's Vengeance. I know a number of you readers will be looking forward to it.**

**So, please leave a review, and if you have any questions, please either drop me a PM or leave a review.**


	18. Chapter 18: Injuries and Jokes

**Family Ties Chapter 18 Injuries and Jokes**

Bruce gently rested his hand on his youngest son's head, the peacefully sleeping boy looking his age for once. Next to him, Dr Leslie Thompkins carefully inserted an IV into Damian's arm and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. By a lucky coincidence, she'd arrived to check up on Dick just in time to confirm Alfred's diagnosis of bruised ribs and prescribe a stomach pump to remove the sewer water, a drip to replace the nutrients lost with his dinner, and a few hours on high oxygen to ensure there were no lasting effects from temporarily flooded lungs. Then she turned back to her intended patient.

Dick was hovering nervously next to the bed. At times like this, Bruce had to wonder what happened to the bright, reckless acrobat to transform him into the concerned young man before him now. Of course, the answer was obvious. As he himself would always feel guilty for failing to get to Jason before Joker got him, so Dick had never forgiven himself for being off world with the Titans at the time. As a result, he'd become rather protective of the others, first Tim, and Stephanie, and Cassandra, and later taking on an exceedingly challenging Damian, and doing his utmost to bring Jason back. Without him, the family wouldn't have survived the…after-effects of the Anti-Life crisis. Though they were very different people, Bruce could appreciate that he wouldn't be where he was now without Dick.

Leslie grabbed the acrobat by the arm and pushed him over to another bed. "Sit," she said, picking up a fresh needle and syringe.

"I'm fine, Doc," Dick whined as he sat down.

"Mm-hm," Leslie said, sticking the needle in his arm. "Have you experienced any dizziness, nausea, double vision, flashing lights or hallucinations?"

"No, no, no, no and no."

"Have you been feeling disorientated or inebriated?"

"Does it count that Wally dragged me down to Roy's and got me blind drunk last night?"

Bruce raised one eyebrow a minute fraction at Dick's sudden, extreme economy with the truth. Over by the T-Rex, West made a strangled, choking noise. Alfred sighed audibly, and Leslie frowned disapprovingly.

"Joking," Dick muttered, rolling his eyes. "No, I haven't."

Leslie glared for a moment before continuing. "If the tox test comes back clean, then you're fine for normal activity."

"Excellent." Dick jumped, flipped, and kissed Leslie on the cheek from behind her. "Thanks, Doc."

"I said 'if'," Leslie reprimanded primly.

"Do what you're told, Dick," Bruce told him. Dick pouted and sat back down.

As Leslie started testing the blood sample, a motorbike roared into the cave and a somewhat irritated Jason dismounted, pulling off his helmet and griping about "stupid cops".

"Three dollars in the jar," Bruce told him. "And a warm shower before you catch cold."

Jason glared at him and stomped off to the showers. Maybe leaving him to escort Croc to Arkham hadn't been the best decision, considering his previous…differences of opinion with the authorities. But with Damian injured…

Looked like he'd gotten away with it this time. The computer would have flagged any radio traffic about the police having a disagreement with Red Hood. There would have been quite a lot too; any attempt to arrest Hood would have resulted in Jason beating them to a pulp. Bruce may not always approve of Jason's choice of target, but would never doubt his son's skill.

"Daddy Bats over-protective much?" West whispered in Dick's ear. Futilely whispering; he was all of two meters away.

"He's got good reason," Dick replied, nodding to the sheet-covered display case. Jason couldn't bear to see his old, blood-stained costume; the others valued the warning. This was the compromise.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess."

"Why are you here, West?" Bruce growled to his sometimes teammate.

"We got a report, up at the Watchtower. Murder case in Las Vegas."

"This is the League's business because…?"

"Joker."

Dick hissed angrily. "You sure?"

"That's what it looks like."

Bruce rose and crossed to the Bat-computer. Dick trailed behind him, leaning on the back of the chair and reaching forward to save and close his projects. West handed over a computer chip, and Bruce opened the file.

It wasn't much to go on. The cleric at a drive-through wedding chapel had been found dead, his face fixed in the characteristic rictus grin. The tox test revealed one of the more lethal varieties of the poison.

"Copy-cat killings tend to be weaker strains," Dick murmured. He was correct. Joker was the only one who could make the toxins; no-one else knew how he did it. While the lesser poisons occasionally slipped out of the clown's grasp, the stronger, more complex ones were never out of his control.

Bruce activated the comm link. "Red Robin, return to base," he instructed. Tim was an excellent detective; his input could be very useful. Of course their hands were tied somewhat by the distance, but they could at least evaluate the threat level.

A quiet blip told him Tim had reached his bike. They had a couple of garages around the city, and would stash their vehicles before taking to the rooftops. Once on wheels, Tim should be home in only a few minutes.

While he waited, he meticulously checked each detail, comparing it to past cases. Motive was a mystery. This was Joker; motive was _always_ a mystery.

Another motorbike roared; Tim was back. The youngest of his adopted sons dismounted, pulling off the 'cycle helmet as Leslie came to see the new arrival. "How are you injured?" she sighed.

Tim's eyebrows quirked together. "No, I'm okay. I thought Damian…?"

"Will be fine, come morning. As will Dick." Alfred appeared to escort her out, and she called out once more before leaving. "Be careful boys. I don't want to make another house call any time soon."

Bruce beckoned Tim over. Jason came out of the showers, dressed in frayed jeans and a cotton T-shirt advertising some heavy metal band. Both boys joined Bruce and Dick at the computer as he explained the case.

"Security cameras melted by acid, hmm," Tim muttered. "Weapon fits, target maybe not so much? He doesn't usually care who knows he's there…"

"Still fits his normal," Jason continued.

"Sorry, B, I think we need more," Tim concluded.

Bruce stared at the screen, thinking. "Cass better have refuelled the jet," he muttered. "You will all stay here. Riddler and Cluemaster, you can deal with. Cain, leave alone. And call me."

"Sure, Bruce," Dick nodded placating.

"I mean it," Bruce growled. "I don't want you hurt. Any of you."

**AN: Duh Duh DUH! So, it's Joker. Virtual cookie going to The Knight Shadow Ash. Virtual doughnuts to READINGhearts17 and ILoveTheRobins who guessed the weird murder spree and assassin options respectively. But how is it going to play out? We shall see...**

**In about a month and a half.**

**Yes, I'm afraid I'm going on a sort-of mini-hiatus. Now, before you all lynch me, there is a very good reason. Over in Flashback, we will be having a five chapter mini-series featuring...well, you'll see.**

**In the meantime, please review, and why not participate in a new little contest? I know what's going to happen next, so send in your guesses. I will give all entrants between one and five virtual cookies based on how accurate your guesses are. However, I may not give the full results straight away. Depends. If you guess the major story twist, you'll have to wait a bit.**

**Any questions (or anonymous entries), drop a PM.**

**See you in July,**

**Katara.**


	19. Chapter 19: Don't Get Hurt, He Said

**Family Ties Chapter 19 Don't Get Hurt, He Said**

Jason, Cass, Tim, Stephanie and Damian sat together in the canteen, eating lunch. Cass glanced around at the wide berth the other students gave them. "Why so…alone?" she vocalized, gesturing.

Jason and Stephanie looked up. Damian ignored her, continuing to make notes on his English text in Arabic. Tim glanced around before explaining. "It's to do with social standing." Cass and Jason looked perplexed, so Tim elaborated. "As Waynes, we're pretty much top. They're just below us. But the adoptions are confusing it. To them, you two are freeloading street kids. So they don't know how to treat you."

"But they do get how to act around you?" Jason asked.

"I was one of them anyway. Before…you know. A rather small step up in my standing. And Damian's not really thought to have had any change in standing."

"I get accused of flirting with money a lot," Stephanie added.

"By who?" Tim asked flintily. "I'll make it quite clear to them how little your background matters to me."

"It's fine," she said, glancing down. "And, um…"

"Cluemaster working with Riddler," Cass supplied quietly. "Heard last night."

"Do Father and Grayson know?" Damian asked, looking up at last and leaning in.

"I think Bruce left too early, but Babs was going to tell Dick," Stephanie told him somewhat morosely.

"Don't worry, Steph," Tim said. "I really don't-"

"_Timothy Drake-Wayne, report to Science Nine at once,_" the intercom chimed, silencing dozens of conversations and throwing the Waynes back into the centre of attention.

Tim frowned. "Chemistry there in twenty minutes anyway," he muttered to himself, before shrugging and rising.

Cass rested her hand on his wrist before he picked up his plate. "We do that," she offered. "You get going."

"Thanks. Jay, can you grab my bag from my locker?" Jason grumbled an assent, and Tim tossed him the keyring. "Cheers. See you later."

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Mrs Milliner had been teaching Chemistry at Gotham Academy for the best part of a decade. In all that time, she'd never had anything like the brawl Todd-Wayne and Drake-Wayne had on their first day. More disturbing, it seemed the quarrel was over the necessity of a wider chemical knowledge than explosives. When they'd returned from suspension, they'd seemed very polite to each other. Mrs Milliner had a habit of watching trouble children.

Todd-Wayne, along with several other AP students, were waiting for her to arrive and unlock the door to the lab after lunch. He was leaning against the wall, looking slightly perturbed. Drake-Wayne was nowhere in sight.

She opened the lab door, and gasped (_not_ shrieked) in shock. The room was a mess. Stools had been over turned. A burette had been smashed, and from the blood, someone had been badly cut. Small piles of glass from smashed bottles stood in puddles of colourless liquid, the locked cupboards they were stored in smashed open. One of the workbenches sported deep gouges. And at the back, a large knife pinned a piece of paper to the wall.

Stepping through the wreckage, Mrs Milliner reached out to remove the knife, before finding her wrist caught in a tight grip. "You'll smudge the fingerprints," said a terse voice. Indeed, there were some bloody fingerprints on the hilt. Mrs Milliner felt her hand released, and looked over at Todd-Wayne, who was now reaching past her, not for the knife, but for a fine chain with a collection of trinkets caught on the knife. He gently freed it, and examined a pair of gold rings. "Damn," he muttered. "Had hoped I was wrong…"

"Do you know what happened?" she asked him.

Todd-Wayne's teal-blue eyes seemed very hard in their sockets. "It seems Tim was ambushed, and came off the worst of it," he said. Mrs Milliner tried to protest that he couldn't know that, but he cut her off. "It's happened before. Believe me. And I know his necklace when I see it."

She looked past him to the rest of the class crowding the door. "Back outside, all of you," she snapped. "Except Todd-Wayne."

They obeyed. Todd-Wayne now had his cell phone to his ear and had turned away. Three times in quick succession he growled, "Science Nine, now," into the handset before immediately dialling again. The fourth time, he said, "Gold bird. Get here now. Science Nine. There's a situation."

"You know I have to alert the Principal," she told him. "And most likely the police as well."

"Yeah, I know," he replied. "And our guardian. I just did that one."

She looked around at a scuffle by the door. The youngest Wayne boy pushed in past the class outside. "Todd, what-? Where's Drake?"

Todd-Wayne held out the chain in answer. Wayne fell silent, his eyes flicking over the destroyed room. Another commotion heralded the arrival of the Asian Cain-Wayne and a blonde freshman- Black? Brown?- who'd been pictured hanging off Drake-Wayne's arm at the Labour Day Gala the previous week. They also focused on the slim necklace before looking about.

Mrs Milliner was about to order the new arrivals out, before realising that, if Todd-Wayne was right, getting rid of Drake-Wayne's family and girlfriend wouldn't be the wisest course.

"You called…?" Cain-Wayne asked falteringly.

"Yeah," Todd-Wayne replied. "He should be here soon."

Cain-Wayne nodded, going over to read the note on the wall. She paled, making a few gestures. Ignoring the strange method of communication, Mrs Milliner picked up the classroom phone, calling Principal Forsythe and alerting him to the situation.

He arrived a few minutes later. "Young man," he said sternly to Todd-Wayne. "If you or your brother did this, you're out, no matter how much Wayne offers to pay."

"Sir, it's more complicated," Cain-Wayne interrupted. "See-"

She broke off as the roar of a motorbike filtered through the open window. Scarcely a minute later, the secretary looked through the door. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "But Mr Grayson insisted-"

Not waiting, the eldest Wayne son slipped into the trashed lab, motorbike helmet under his arm. "What happened?" he asked.

Todd-Wayne handed him the necklace. "Note on the wall," he said curtly.

Mrs Milliner took advantage of the girls moving to see the note herself.

_Wayne,_

_You have what is mine. I have what is yours. Let's trade, before what is yours gets too broken._

Beneath was a scribbled drawing of a polar bear's head in a black circle.

Todd-Wayne was speaking again. "Cain kidnapped Tim."

**AN: Welcome back. Hope you all enjoyed our little jaunt into Dick's past. Now, before we left, I set the challenge of guessing what happens next. There were two entries. Anisoka99 guessed Jason would follow Bruce and get hurt. Good idea, but, well, not what I was thinking, obviuosly. Have a virtual cookie anyway. Glimare's guess...well, we'll come back to it.**

**Okay, now, regular readers will know I tend to update fairly consistently. Every week, I update either this or Flashback, and one of my crossovers, either Black & Red or Little Bird's Vengeance (B&R this week, btw). ****Unfortunately, for various reasons I'm a little behind on writing WB chapters, so I can't be sure I'll be able to update as consistently as I'd like. If I am unable to update WB, I intend to update both of the others instead. I am aware that some of my readers do not have accounts, so I hope this is useful. Sorry for the inconvenience.**

**As always, please review, and feel free to ask me any questions you like in either a review or a PM.**

**Hopefully back next week.**

**Katara**


	20. Chapter 20: Don't Panic

**Family Ties Chapter 20 Don't Panic**

Dick sat cross-legged on the teacher's desk, watching Bullock and Montoya monitor the gathering of evidence. Nearby, Steph was fighting off tears, Jason and Damian were lost in their own thoughts, and Cass was most definitely brooding. Not that he could blame her.

"Mr Grayson?"

"Yes, Detective Bullock?"

"Would it be possible to speak to Mr Wayne now?"

Dick smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid not. Bruce is out of town on business, and doesn't seem to be answering his phone."

Bullock frowned. "We need to interview your brother Jason, and as he's still a minor-"

"Oh, that's not a problem. I'm legally permitted to act as guardian in Bruce's stead." Dick flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Do you have any objections to doing it now, we can save going down to the station?" They both shook their heads. Bullock pulled out a recording device. The forensic guys left, and Bullock turned to the other three youngsters. "Could you three step outside for a minute?"

They all glanced at Dick; who nodded slightly. Then they left.

Bullock switched on the recording device, listing off date, time and who was in the room. "Jason, tell us what you saw," he started off.

"I arrived at the classroom about a minute and a half after first bell. This was straight after lunch. The door was locked."

"Is it unusual for the door to be locked?"

"Not in itself; school policy is that all labs are locked except when a teacher is present. But Tim had been called to the room about twenty minutes earlier. As I hadn't seen him since, I'd thought he'd still be there."

"Could he not have finished before the end of lunch?"

"Yeah, but he'd asked me to pick up his bag from his locker for him. It would have made more sense for him to wait for me in the corridor."

"Was this worrying you?"

"Not seriously. It was odd, but I didn't think it was cause for concern. When Mrs Milliner arrived and unlocked the door, the room was wrecked."

"Did anything in particular attract your attention?"

"Aside from the literal bull-in-a-china-shop look?" Dick shot him a quick look telling him to behave. "A bloody knife pinning a note to the back wall. It had Tim's necklace suspended from it."

"This the necklace?" Bullock held up the evidence bag Dick had let them put the chain in earlier.

"Yeah. The rings are his parent's wedding rings; I checked the inscriptions."

"What are the other two?"

"The black and silver is a representation of the eclipse," Dick explained. "Old family legend. The red and purple half-yin-yang is from his girlfriend. She's got the other half."

"Back to the knife. Anything more about it than the necklace and note?"

"As well as blood on the blade, it has fingerprints," Jason said. "I suspect both are from Tim."

"Can we confirm that?" Bullock glanced over at Montoya, who shrugged, and scribbled an extra note in her book.

"I fingerprinted us all after it came up in my course," Dick supplied. "And I'm fairly sure our family doctor has blood samples. I can have them sent over this evening."

"You do that." Bullock then read out the note to the recording system. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yes. It's a private matter not up for discussion," Jason answered curtly.

"We'd be willing to talk to the Commissioner about it," Dick offered. "No-one else."

Bullock continued to pepper them with questions for a few minutes, getting only "no comment" in response, before terminating the interview. "Fine. I'll call the Commissioner," he said grumpily.

"Thank you." Bullock went off the make the call and talk to Montoya, while Dick called Damian, Cass and Steph back in. He briefly explained the situation. Steph looked confused about something.

"_Why take Tim?_" she asked in Romani, their most unusual and thus preferred common language.

"_I think he wanted whoever he could grab quickest and with least complications,_" Dick suggested, staying in the same language. "_I'm too good at evasion for him to avoid attracting attention; Jason and Damian too vicious when cornered, __**and**__ have al Ghul connections he wouldn't want to offend; he wants Cass to come to him; Babs would have the entire police force mobilized; and he probably doesn't want the aggravation of irritating Riddler's new partner._"

"_I don't think my al Ghul connections are all that great,_" Jason grumbled.

"_Mother declared me an enemy, remember?_" Damian pointed out.

Dick frowned and thought for a moment, then threw his motorbike helmet at Jason. "_When Gordon arrives, you two go home. Get those samples ready, try to contact Bruce, and call Babs back. Start whatever research she says. There's a spare helmet in the rear compartment._" He tossed over the keys. "_Don't trash it._" He turned to Steph. "_Do you want to ask your mom if you can stay over until this is sorted?_"

Steph stepped away to make the call. When she arrived back ten minutes later with permission, Gordon was arriving. He chivvied Bullock and Montoya out, and the boys took off.

"What is it you won't tell the detectives?" he asked Dick. Dick gestured to the note.

"Do you recognize the symbol?" he asked.

"It's the mark of Cain, isn't it? _Your_ father." He nodded to Cass, who nodded back an affirmative. "He wants you back, and you want to keep it quiet, huh?"

"Something like that," Dick said. "You helped get the adoption through, so…"

"You know it was Barbara's idea? The legal bit to get her into the system, getting your Bruce Wayne to adopt her…she said Bruce did well enough with you boys, and could afford another. You were all happy with it, the disarray from the quake left few options, it made sense."

"I know, sir," Dick said, catching Cass' hand, "Right now, the world thinks she's a street kid, and that's _safe_. I know you'll do your best to find Tim, so can you help with this too?"

"I'll try, son. I really will."

**AN: Alright, time to get started on the hunting. Will they find him before he gets too damaged? Or will Cass give herself up? Will someone else get hurt in the process? Find out what happens next, back here next week.**

**Other updates, Little Bird's Vengeance still going on. Head over to find out how Tim's getting on with the Avengers.**

**As usual, please review, any questions, just ask, you know the drill.**

**See ya next week.**

**Katara**


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